


folie a trois

by end_thistragedy



Series: you hit me with a plot twist [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Polyamory, Porn Watching, Sexual Content, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Zarriall Triad, gratuitous af
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-13 19:48:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4535064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/end_thistragedy/pseuds/end_thistragedy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"It looks easy, yeah?"</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"I guess? There's three people here. I don't understand-" Zayn stops. "Wait. Are you subtly trying to tell me you want to have a threesome?"</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"I wasn't being subtle."</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"God Niall." </i>
</p><p>Or, the AU where Zayn and Niall seek out Harry for a threesome and find themselves stuck in a situation a little more than they bargained for. Meanwhile, Louis and Liam feel left out and uncomfortable when things are not about them, so they formulate a plan of their own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *liam at every concert shouting "you're the loudest crowd ever!" voice* this is my favorite baby ! and it's been so hard to write lmao i hope it comes out at least OK
> 
> and i feel like I should say that the relationship that buds between zarriall is heavily romantic rather than sexual regardless of how it started this is Important

"Fuckin' hate baths." Niall says, frowning as he settles down opposite of Zayn in the tub. His knee—the one with the sick scar that Zayn still sometimes cringes at the sight of—bumps against one of Zayn's body parts and he hisses at the sting of bone knocking against bone. Grumbling and looking like a disgruntled Gremlin, he asks, "What're we doing?"

"Being romantic." Zayn responds simply, stretching his legs until he's managed to trap Niall between them.

Niall snorts. "Baths are disgusting. Floating around in our own filth. In each other’s filth."

"If you're gonna complain, you can just get out." Zayn tells him, tiredly. He closes his eyes and sinks further down into the water until it's rocking against his chest at the movement. He'd gone out that afternoon and spent over $50 at Bath & Body Works so he was pretty much hell-bent on making this work. Niall's obvious discontent is starting to ruin it all.

Niall huffs a bit overdramatically, "Sorry."

"Just thought you needed a break. And you'd've laughed at me if I took you to a spa."

"Spas are ridiculous."

"So," Zayn emphasizes, "I thought a bath would work just as well. Look: Come over here and turn around."

"Why?" Niall asks, immediately suspicious.

"Did some research. Just—come and get between my legs. Put your back against my chest, yeah?"

"Did you do actual research or just watch porn?" Which, when it comes to Zayn, is a legitimate and necessary question.

Zayn nearly begs, "Come on, Niall."

"No, really.” Niall prods, “I've seen things, Zayn. Always starts just like this. Let me guess: you're gonna give me a massage. And then it'll turn one or both of us on and we obviously have no other choice but to make the bath even more disgusting by fucking in the water." When Zayn doesn't say anything to dispute it, Niall laughs, which is rude.

"Just get over here."

"Why don't we just skip straight to the sex? Come on, Z. If you really want to get me to relax, touch my dick. Preferably on a bed." Niall suggests, "I admit we've done some weird shit but soaking in come is where I'm drawing the line."

"Fine." Zayn rolls his eyes, waving a dismissive hand at Niall, who is upsettingly too cute to fight with. "Dry off before you go running."

"There's no time. Look at me: I'm so stressed. We need to hurry." Niall grabs Zayn's hand from beneath the water and pulls them both up. Zayn is grateful they don't slip and fall immediately to their deaths. What an embarrassing but tragically fitting way to go. "If you really wanna get weird we can watch a few videos? Try new shit?"

"We haven't done that in ages." Zayn laments, intrigued by the possibilities. They haven't had an opportunity to try out the toys Harry jokingly, but quite seriously bought them for their anniversary. Zayn thinks there may be handcuffs which, he admits, is quite unexpectedly tame from Harry Styles.

Niall hums as he walks, Zayn shamelessly watching the muscles in his bony, but fit legs, eyes dragging up to his cute little ass. "To be honest, don't think I'm gonna last long first go ‘round." Niall admits, letting go of Zayn's hand to climb onto the bed, falling onto his back in an attempt at a seductive position that would be an immediate turn off if it wasn't Niall and Zayn wasn't terribly in love with him.

He wants to give Niall a well-deserved slap sometimes, but mostly he just wants to kiss him. "S'cool." Zayn tells him, not wanting to admit he might be in the same boat just from the thought of touching Niall, "You're getting the sheets all wet," he complains, but hypocritically does the same when he climbs into bed after him.

"Not really going to matter, is it?"

"I just washed them."

"Jesus Christ, Zayn. Are we doing this or not?" Niall growls, impatiently, a hand already tugging on his own dick.

"Shut up." Zayn slaps his hand away, "You talk so much," he says, and presses him down against the sheets and kisses his jaw, his hand traveling down his bare torso to pick up where he left off.

\----/----

It's after noon when Zayn gets an email from Niall at work that has a winking emoji as the subject. He frowns over his coffee as he clicks the link in the message, interest piqued. He's glad the door to his office is closed when his screen is automatically filled with the sounds from a queued video of two very naked dudes in what looks like some kind of suburban backyard garden. There's definitely a gazebo in the background.

He chokes and exits the video immediately, slamming his laptop closed and reaching for his phone in quick succession.

Niall picks up on the third ring with a casual, "Hey."

"Don't send porn to my work email? I feel like I shouldn't even have to say that?"

Zayn hears a crunch and wonders if he'd caught Niall on his lunch. He hasn't actually looked at a clock all morning. "You don't have a personal." Niall explains like it serves a justification.

"That doesn't mean you can—" Zayn stops, taking a deep breath before calmly saying, near pleading, "Just don't do it again?" Because explaining why something like this is wrong to Niall would take hours that Zayn doesn't have and would just end with Niall biting at his fingernails and saying, "What's the big deal?"

"Sure. Did you watch it?"

"No. I didn't fucking watch it. I'm at work." Zayn wonders how many times he's going to have to point out the obvious.

"I'm sure the work that you pass off to your interns can wait." Niall says. Asshole. "It's important. Watch it now."

"Right now?"

Niall hums. "Keep me on the phone."

"I'm at work, babe."

Zayn knows Niall is shrugging, when he says, "Your door can lock. We've taken advantage of that a couple of times."

"Those were purely moments of weakness." Zayn defends, but he's standing and walking to his door anyway.

"Think of this as one of those moments then."

"This is weird, Niall."

"We watch porn together all the time."

"No. Not the porn. Me in my locked office watching it with you over the phone. That's what's weird."

Niall ignores him, "My break is almost over you should hurry."

"Fine." Zayn returns to his desk and opens his laptop again. "What is this? Like, what kind?"

Niall chuckles softly, muttering something that sounds an awful lot like teasing, "The good kind."

Zayn turns down the volume before resuming the video and watches as the men on screen get right to it, one going on his knees, enthusiastically sucking the other's dick into his mouth. He watches the smaller man get deep throated for a few minutes--accompanied with a number of sounds that make Zayn shift in his chair--right up until another man appears on camera, coming up beside the couple with his unusually large dick bobbing obscenely. Zayn straightens up in his seat and clears his throat. "Oh. Um. What am I looking for here, Ni?" They've never ventured into the threesome territory with their porn viewing. Very vanilla when it comes to participants.

"Looks easy, yeah?" Niall asks, just as the sound of a hand smacking against a bare ass resonates throughout the room.

Zayn's regrettably half hard, but he definitely doesn't want Niall to give the satisfaction by telling him and maybe convincing him to get him off over the phone.

"Well—I guess?" He's confused, "There's three people here. I don't understand—" Zayn pauses, and suddenly feels a sense of impending doom. "Are you--Are you subtly trying to tell me you want to have a threesome?"

"I wasn't being subtle."

" _God_ Niall." Zayn groans, his head falling into his hands.

"I've already got the perfect person in mind."

"Please don't say Liam."

Niall snorts quite dramatically, and if Zayn didn't agree on every level, he'd feel offended on Liam's behalf, "No! Not Liam! Jesus, I'm talking about Harry."

"Harry?" Zayn raises his head, eyes staring at the screen where the smallest of the three is on his hands and knees, and someone's eating him out. Zayn can't tell which one it is—the camera is zoomed in on the rimming. They all look the exact same shade of white boy with semi tans.

"Harry! Think about it. He's hot."

Zayn runs his hand along the stubble on his chin, "He's something." They've talked about Harry before, joking around nothing major so Zayn would be lying if it hadn't crossed both of their minds. Niall had admitted through a series of nonchalant shrugs that he'd get on his hands and knees for Harry if he asked, lamenting on the unnecessary amount of times he's seen Harry naked. Zayn had laughed at the pink in Niall's cheeks after he blurted it all out and said he'd be damn glad to watch, picturing himself on his knees with Niall's mouth wrapped around him, groaning around Zayn's dick as Harry relentlessly fucked in and out of him.

But it wasn't exactly a serious conversation: it was far more giggly. Zayn had packed two bowls over the course of the night and turned on a predictable mix of Jhene Aiko and The Weeknd which had led to one point where Zayn stood and tried to give Niall what he thought was a rather filthy lap dance that mostly just consisted of him grinding slow and lazily on Niall's dick with their foreheads pressed together until they both came in their pants. After that, they'd stripped off their disgusting clothes and decided it would be a really good idea to bake lasagna naked at three in the morning. Naked lasagna somehow ended with Niall expertly opening Zayn up with his tongue on top of the counter next to a jar of spilled pasta sauce.

So Zayn doesn't really consider anything actually said that night should be taken seriously.

"And I'm pretty sure he'd be into this kind of thing. Always up for anything, always wanting to please and all that. And: we all know what went down before Eaby."

Zayn blanches at the name, but soldiers on.

"I don't know, babe." Zayn hesitates, thinking distantly about a rule where the third person in a couple's threesome should never, ever be with someone you know. Especially a best friend. Especially _Harry_.

"Think about it." Niall says, sighing like Zayn's inconveniencing him by being reasonably hesitant. "All right?"

"Yeah." And Zayn sighs right back at him. "Harry?"

"Harry!" Niall says, and makes kissing noises into the phone that should not be as endearing as they are. "I better go. Love you."

"You too." Zayn responds, hanging up.

He stares at his computer screen, the video now on a shot of the palest guy balls deep in the one with the shaggy dark hair, while the third guy fucks into shaggy dark hair's mouth, and Zayn shrugs and settles in to watch the rest of the video.

\----/----

Zayn tells his interns that he's going out and for them to behave and answer phones if any ring and goes to the library where Harry volunteers part time on Tuesdays. He's shoved a random sketchbook and one of his smaller supply bags into his messenger bag in order to appear like he had a reason to be an adult with a fulltime job sitting at a table in the library at two o'clock in the afternoon.

Zayn remembers spending a lot of time in the abandoned encyclopedia section back in school with Louis pressed against the old creaky shelves, their desperate late teens hormone driven hands pulling at each other’s clothes. He quite likes the memory. He thinks maybe he and Louis were good before they both realized that not getting caught having sex in weird places and wasting away afternoons getting high in Louis' old van was all they could ever accomplish with their relationship. Zayn thinks how they ended it is probably his favorite break up ever—it'd happened after they had sex for the last time in an actual bed and not some dark corner at a frat party or the bathroom at a KFC just minutes before its closing. They'd stared up at the ceiling and sort of cringed, laughing through the awkwardness and amicably agreeing that they could never, ever do that again.

Zayn finds a table within the nonfiction section – shelves on either side of the randomly placed set of tables – and opens his sketchbook. The supply bag he'd blindly brought along was only full of colored pencils that he barely even uses and he busies himself by drawing suns and moons and thinks of Niall and how good his unmarked skin would look with tattoos. His train of thought leaves him - if it was ever there at all - as he begins sketching tattoo ideas that he wants to try to convince Niall for the umpteenth time to let him ink into his skin. Those conversations always end with Niall shrugging a lot and claiming he still wants to get the bar code tattoo with his birthday digits – the idea he's been going on and on about since they were in college.

He's so into it - imagining Niall laid out on that couch topless and only in the tight black boxer briefs he'd stolen from Zayn and never given back, sunlight shining through the bay windows they don't even have and cascading over his skin as Zayn donned a tattoo gun and inked the sun, the moon, and the stars over his ribs and Niall bit his lip at the pain, but still managed to keep up a slow, mesmerizing stroke up and down Zayn's arm with his fingers. Zayn doesn't notice when someone joins him at his table.

When he looks up, Harry is there unloading books from a book jockey and staring at him like he's amused. Not even surprised like Zayn being there is something he expected. He just looks...amused.

"What are you doing here?" He asks, his face dimpling with a smile. He looks rather pleased like he's just won something but is repressing his glee in order to seem unaffected.

Zayn blinks as his eyes trace over Harry's biceps, to the way the color of his shirt accentuates his skin, and suddenly feels a lump in his throat. Fucking Niall. "I got my first blowjob here." Zayn answers, finally, blurting out the last thing he'd ever thought he'd say.

Harry stops stacking books on top of the table and raises an eyebrow. "Oh really." He drawls, in that low tone of his that always sounds like he's about to tell a joke and miss the mark completely. Zayn used to think he was faking it when they'd first started hanging out properly. Zayn never hid his disgust so it wasn't a secret that he hated Harry quite a lot, if their constant fighting and picking on each other was anything to go by. He'd complain about him constantly to Louis who would just laugh and say, _He's not that bad, man_. And narrow his eyes every time Zayn would go on another Harry induced tangent. And, ok, Zayn admits Harry wasn't actually terrible enough to warrant Zayn's repulsion, but he was the most frustrating and confusing person and came off as an entitled brat who always seemed to be around when Zayn was in a bad mood. Niall teased him once about how Zayn must always be in a bad mood because every time Harry was around Zayn was compelled to take all his frustrations out on him by destroying him until he began to pout at Zayn a lot.

Zayn finally forced himself to get over it when he and Niall finally started dating after a good two years of making each other blush and pretending they hadn't kissed that one time in Liam's kitchen, or that time after Niall got accepted into his med school program, or that time they woke up next to each other in Zayn's bed and ran out of excuses other than the fact that Niall thought Zayn just looked really pretty in the morning and really all the time and it was just hard to not want to kiss him every second of every day and Zayn had kissed him to stop his ranting and they'd both looked at each other like _Oh_.

It was after they'd officially but subtly announced themselves as a couple by Zayn kissing Niall after they'd collectively teased him for growing attached to one of his pediatrics patients and everyone had gone silent but Louis, of course, who said, "Sorry—what the fuck was that?"

It was later that night—after being filled with Harry's poor attempt at a well-balanced meal--when Liam cornered Zayn in the hallway of Niall and Harry's apartment and asked him, with complete sincerity, _Are you trying to make Harry jealous?_ It had taken Zayn a while until he realized that Liam genuinely thought Zayn's hatred towards Harry was some convoluted way of expressing romantic feelings—which, until right now at this very second seemed absolutely ridiculous.

Zayn still wants to deck him sometimes, but it's more out of fondness now, he supposes. He hates himself for it, feels he's gone a bit soft. But Harry's just so pretty, Zayn can't bear harming a single hair on his body.

Harry cuts into his head, asking "Who with?" in a tone that suggests he'd had to repeat himself more than once.

Zayn seems to snap out of it enough to get his thoughts together properly to say, “Louis."

"Oh _really_ ," He says again. "And that's why you're here? Because this is where Louis gave you your first blowjob?"

"No." Zayn says, then, "I came to draw."

"You came to a library to draw?"

"Yes." Zayn hadn't thought this through. Is it weird to sit and draw in a library? Is that not something some people do? Artists need inspiration, right? It's got to come from somewhere.

Harry hums. It's a loaded hum, like he's judging him. Zayn doesn't like it. "Don't you have an office where it's your job to do that?"

"No. Well yes, but—it was too noisy."

"Too noisy for you to draw..." Harry squints at the sketchbook. "Doodles of the moon and stars?" He finishes, frowning. "How very broody high school Zayn of you."

Zayn nods his head, aiming to agree, but his mouth opens and says, "I came to see you."

"Did you now?" Harry doesn't look shocked and maybe it was obvious in the first place because the last time Zayn stepped foot in the library was probably back in school if he's honest.

"Why is that?" asks Harry. He still looks pleased and Zayn wants to smack the look off his face. "I was starting to think you all were forgetting about me with your monogamous relationships and all."

"Never." Zayn says, a bit too quickly, and looks down at his nails in contemplation. He can't remember the last time he'd hung out with Harry without Niall being there. Or Louis and Liam. Maybe they were kind of forgetting about him. "We'd never forget about you." He promises anyway.

Harry sits down at the table and starts separating the books in some kind of order that Zayn doesn't really care to figure out. "What'd you want to talk about?"

"I just wanted to see you."

"Flattered, but no. I know that look. You want something. What is it?"

"I really can't talk about it here." Zayn glances around the eerily empty library like there's someone who cares enough to peep in on their conversation. "Actually, I don't really want to talk about it anywhere if I’m honest. I don't even know why I came here." Zayn admits, because he acts on impulses and they always catch up to him. "This is Niall's fault."

"Okay," says Harry, slowly, and he brings a hand up to tuck his hair behind his ear. Zayn tracks the movement and swallows a lump that isn't even in his throat. It's gotten so long. Zayn didn't think he'd stick to it. He's always trying something new. This might be the only thing he's actually stuck to. Zayn remembers the juice cleanse he attempted and set up a group chat specifically to text them all every side effect he'd experienced. "You're scaring me a bit." Harry tells him.

"I'm not meaning to." Zayn promises, and, because he can't help it, "Your hair's gotten longer since I last saw you. Looks good, babe."

Harry honestly blushes and pretends to flip it over his shoulder on each side. He's nearly preening. "Thanks. I'm trying to grow it out more, actually."

Zayn doesn't think about grabbing onto it as Harry's sat in his lap, and pulling his head back so he can mouth at his neck as Harry rocks down slowly on his dick. Doesn't think about Harry tying it up into a bun before letting Zayn bind his hands behind his back when he sinks onto his knees in front of Niall. Zayn doesn't think at all.

He blinks, hard, and scoots his chair back, "Um. Can we talk later? I think Niall should do this."

"Oh. Sure? Is everything okay?" Harry asks, and he's given Zayn his full attention now. He looks worried and Zayn feels awful. But also like he's going to throw up.

Harry tentatively questions, "You breaking up with me?" Which receives a snort and increases Zayn's heart rate. But Harry looks serious when he asks, "No one’s dying?"

"No. No one’s dying." Zayn assures him, although he damn well might if this conversation goes any further. "Come over tonight."

"Of course." Harry doesn't even hesitate. Zayn wishes he would—wishes the thought of Harry being so submissive and accommodating didn't make him dizzy.

"I'll get Niall to cook. We should catch up."

"Louis and Liam, too?"

"No." Zayn says, a bit too quickly. He curses himself silently. Sure, they can be lovely but. "Uh. No. Just us three actually."

"Sounds great." Harry sounds genuinely excited. Zayn suddenly has the urge to buy a plane ticket to somewhere that is far from here.

"I hope so." Zayn bites his lip.

"It's a date, then." Harry grins, his ridiculous dimples appearing again on his equally ridiculous face and making Zayn wish he was less attractive. He considers maybe convincing him to wear a paper bag over his head just for funsies when he comes to dinner and possibly for the rest of his life.

“Yeah,” Zayn says, miserably, “It’s a date.”

\----/----

"I can't believe you invited him over," Niall says, accusatory. But his face is betraying him by looking delighted. "And volunteered me to cook. The last time I cooked I gave you food poisoning."

Zayn's at the counter, scrolling through a list of recipes on his IPad and frowning up at each one. He can't remember if Harry was still pretending he was a vegan or not, "It was the fish."

"That I begged you to let me cook and then it almost killed you." Niall says, and he sounds guilty still. It's been nearly a year. He honestly has to move past it. "You spent the night in the hospital."

Zayn makes a face at the memory of throwing up into different colored bedpans every ten minutes until he felt completely emptied out and he began clutching his stomach and dry heaving. He remembers Niall at his bedside with a towel in his hand, placing periodic kisses on Zayn's cheek even though he smelled like vomit and probably looked a lot like death. He loves Niall.

"Wasn't your fault, babe." Zayn assures him, almost like a mantra by now, and moves away from the counter to open the cabinet where they keep their pastas and soups and other dry and canned foods. "I'll help cook if that'll make you feel better."

"Why don't we just order in?" Niall is sitting at the counter, rolling an orange back and forth across the surface. The orange probably needs to be thrown out if the way it lumps across the counter is anything to go by. Also it's been sitting there for months.

"Because I already promised him a Niall cooked meal. And I don't—"

"—break your promises. I know." Niall sounds annoyed, but relents, because for some reason, he loves Zayn, too. "Fine. What are we making."

"Er. Pasta?" That seemed to be what was highly suggested on the Internet.

"No." Niall says, almost vehemently. "We always have pasta when we have company. Let’s not become that couple."

"Chicken?"

"The only chicken we have is frozen." Niall says, like he doesn't understand how the defrost button works on the microwave.

"That's fine. We can unthaw it." Zayn says, closing the cabinet and going to the fridge instead. He takes out the package of sliced chicken breasts. "Chicken and what?"

"I don't know." Niall says, irritably. "Whatever's in the fridge."

"Potatoes?" Zayn points to the counter at the sack of potatoes he'd forgotten they had. "Yeah, we should eat them before they rot. Start peeling them. We're doing mashed."

Niall does as he's told, letting the orange roll off the counter and onto the hardwood floor. "How'd you even invite him anyway? Did you tell him that you wanted to seduce him into having a three way?"

"Course I did. I told him that I'd very much like it if he'd volunteer his dick for your weird sexual exploration."

"It's not just my weird exploration! You wanted to have sex in a bathtub."

"No. I didn't. You made that up. You started this all, actually."

"You haven't stopped me." Niall challenges. "Why haven't you just put an end to this? You usually don't go along with my ideas."

"Maybe I like doing things for you. Regardless of how I feel about them."

"Bullshit. You're not just doing it for me anymore." Niall calls him out, "You like it. You're interested in him, too."

"I'm not interested—" Niall shoots him a look that Zayn's come to know all too well as his _I'm calling you out on your bullshit_ look. Zayn rolls his eyes, "Well I'm not just gonna suffer through it, am I? I might as well enjoy it. Like you said, he's hot."

Niall raises an eyebrow. He's smirking, the bastard. "You realize that you went and sought out Harry. I didn't."

"It was your idea! I just put it in motion."

"Just admit that you're just as curious as me! Admit that you want to fuck him!"

"I do not confirm or deny anything." Zayn says. "Get off your ass and peel those potatoes so we can woo our best friend into having sex with us."

\----/----

They serve dinner on their best plates after Niall throws the dilapidated orange at Zayn when he tries to set out the paper plates. Niall brings out the silverware his mother had given to them as a housewarming gift and Zayn silently asks Niall if he can take out the wine they've been saving for special occasions by waving it over Harry's head while Harry's back is turned, and when he gets an affirming nod, he pours the three of them two glasses each because really what the hell.

Dinner itself is tense.

Harry sips at his wine and eats happily as he chats about everything and nothing at all while Zayn and Niall sip cautiously at theirs and give each other glances over the rims of their glasses.

Harry makes Niall laugh a lot and Niall's face turns pink and Zayn feels his chest pool with warmth and his throat get tight as he thinks about what else Harry could do to make Niall's face flush that pretty shade of pink. He occupies his mouth with food so he doesn't have to endure the inevitable squeak that will come out if something is directed at him.

It's only when Niall reaches over to wipe off a drop of wine that'd splashed onto Harry's cheek after he slammed his glass down snorting with laughter that Harry starts to realize something is entirely too off for him. "Okay." Harry takes Niall's hand from his cheek and holds it instead, squeezing it from what Zayn can tell. "What's going on?"

"What?" Niall asks, faux innocently and Zayn can tell he's just as tipsy as Harry. He feels left behind, having been too preoccupied staring at the love of his life and....Harry—hit it off more than usual. He's still on his first glass since he's been inwardly freaking out over the fact that he _liked_ seeing Niall and Harry together and.

Oh God.

Zayn should start drinking because maybe their plan won't work as well if he's not as drunk as them. Or maybe that's probably not the best idea. He's terrible when he's under self-induced pressure.

"Don't." Harry chuckles nervously, snapping Zayn’s attention back to the Very Important Situation at hand. "Don't make me feel like I'm crazy. Zayn said you had something to tell me. Something he couldn't talk about alone."

Niall turns his head and Zayn's eyes widen, feeling caught. It wasn't not true.

Harry narrows his eyes at them both. "Should I be worried?"

"Just tell him, Zayn." Niall says through a heavy sigh.

"What? Why do I have to tell him? It was your idea."

"You gonna keep using that against me?"

"Someone tell me something." Harry breaks in before they start arguing, "Or I'm just going to assume the worst."

Zayn closes his eyes and lets his head fall onto the table with a hard thud, groaning. " _Niall_."

He hears Niall exhale, mutter _jesus christ_ , and clear his throat. "We just—" and when there's a long pause, Zayn raises his head just in time to see Niall lean in and press his lips against Harry's.

Zayn molds to his chair, frozen as he watches Niall deepen the kiss, bringing his hand up to hold Harry at the back of his neck to keep him steady. Zayn expected some kind of protest from Harry whether from shock or maybe piqued interest, but there's nothing but reciprocation and soon Harry is holding Niall by his jaw and they're kissing for an entire minute (Zayn counts) right up until Niall breaks the kiss to lean their foreheads together.

Zayn can tell Niall's doing that stupidly endearing quirk of his eyebrow as he smirks at Harry and he kind of wants to die because Harry is smiling right back and saying, "Oh."

"So yeah." Niall leans back into his own space but keeps his and Harry's hands attached. He flicks his eyes between the two of them. Zayn tries to look as unaffected as possible although the flush to his cheeks are probably a dead giveaway.

"Okay. First of all: You didn't have to get me drunk. Maybe kind of insulted that you thought that. And you didn't have to make me dinner. If you'd have just asked I would've said yes. Probably a bit too quickly. But the kissing method was great. Very effective. So I'm definitely not complaining. Second of all," Harry stares at them with a glint in his eyes that Zayn knows from experience is nothing but trouble, "I'd just like to say I'm honored that my favorite boys want me to be the icing between their double layered cake. I used to work in a bakery, you know. So this very exciting."

"Oh god..." Zayn buries his head again.

"No, really. I assumed if this ever happened you'd choose Liam."

Niall groans, "You too? Seriously: why would it be Liam? Does no one actually care that Louis would probably murder everyone just out spite? It's you, Haz."

"Honored." Harry salutes. "Reporting for duty."

"Oh my god." Zayn says into the table.

"Is he going to do that the whole time?" Harry asks, sounding amused.

"He'll get over it."

Harry hums. "Ok. How are we doing this? Do you guys know what you're doing?"

"I mean it's pretty easy just—go at it really. Make the magic happen and see where it goes."

Zayn groans.

"Maybe we should give him some time."

At those magical words, Zayn shoots his head up. "Yes! Some time. That'd be great. A month, maybe a year, maybe ten years. Then I'll be ready." Or hopefully dead.

"He's right. I'm so tired. I'm gonna pass out the moment I get horizontal." Harry says rubbing his eye like an overgrown toddler. "I've been up since four this morning. Went running with Li and then we decided to get breakfast when Louis called looking for him. I think he's gotten a bit soft for Louis in his old age. And I found out I could climb trees? I—well—I saved a cat from a tree. I took pictures, if you want to see. They're on Instagram. It'd been chased up there by a couple of mean kids. Saw it all on my way back from Gem's store after she sensed I was in the neighborhood and begged me to get her an iced tea. Uhm. Right: the kitten! It only took me around an hour to convince him to come down with me. We had a really nice chat about the universe."

Zayn and Niall stare at each other, trying to keep the way they're nearly about to burst into laughter from being too obvious.

"Anyway!" Harry says, none the wiser. "Back to this very interesting change in events. We should probably be sober so it's not as weird."

"Not as weird?" Zayn snorts.

"Yeah." Niall agrees, ignoring Zayn and pulling gently on Harry's hand. "Wanna stay over?"

Harry looks at Niall like he's just said something completely idiotic. "Planned on it. Were you gonna kick me out?"

Zayn opens his mouth, but the two of them know him too well, both shushing him with equally reprimanding looks that make Zayn shrink in his chair.

"You can sleep with us." Niall suggests. "You know what that couch does to your back."

"Our bed's not that big." Zayn says, and he thinks he's basically hyperventilating.

"That's even better." Harry says, giving Zayn a near predatory look that makes Zayn want to spray him with a mist bottle. "Course, Ni. Anything you want."

"Thanks." Niall says, and makes a face when he realizes the wider context of what he's just thanked Harry for.

\----/----

Zayn can barely sleep that night, lying on his back with his arm thrown over his head and the warmth of Harry's leg against his thigh. He can feel the tip of Niall's fingers on his elbow and no matter how many times Niall turns in his sleep, the gentle touch remains in some form and Zayn wants to throw up and possibly get hit by a train.

He's awake up to his alarm and turns it off five minutes before it starts playing Kanye obnoxiously loud, getting out of bed and hopping in the shower. He kisses the tip of Niall's fingers and sort of pokes tenderly at a snoring Harry. They're still asleep when he comes out in a towel and opens up drawers and starts being deliberately loud but they remain unaffected and it makes Zayn a little pissy, but he gets dressed and finds his phone on the table at Niall's side of the bed and kisses Niall's forehead before he leaves.

Work goes exactly how he expected. He's distracted and spills coffee on his button down and one of his interns has a spot remover and he spends a good twenty minutes in the bathroom mirror unsuccessfully trying to remove the biggest fucking spot known to man and not thinking about how Niall and Harry looked kissing each other, how they looked sprawled in the bed before he left. He tries not to think about Harry's smile and feels dizzy, clumsily dropping the spot remover into the sink with a clatter.

He blinks and grips the edge of the sink. "Shit." He says. "Fucking shit."

\----/----

His phone rings while he's listening to a presentation that's awfully good and better than he expected from those giving it and he ignores the call and lets it keep persisting. It alerts him to new text messages and he doesn't even touch his pocket. He doesn't check his messages until he's alone in his office. He feels an unsettling feeling in his stomach when he sees messages from both Louis and Liam and another from Niall that just says: _I'm so sorry_. And it's not until he reads the messages from the boys that he understands. When his phone rings again, he throws the towel in and answers it.

"I don't know whether to be offended or impressed." It's Louis calling from Liam's number and Zayn covers his face with his hand and tries not to sound too disappointed.

"Hi Lou. How are you?"

"Just fine, thank you. And apparently so are you! More than, I'd like to think."

"Please don't."

"This is brilliant, Zayn. Truly. This is history in the making."

"Everything is history in the making."

"If I'd known you were into that kind of thing, I'd have gotten Liam in with us back in school."

"Liam had a girlfriend, Louis."

"Liam had female identified friend that he was afraid to be intimate with. Let's not confuse the two."

"Is there any reason for me not to hang up right now?" Zayn finally takes his hand away from his eyes, blinking against the brightness of his office.

"I just wanted to tease you."

"Obviously."

"But really this is blowing my mind. I can't even picture it."

"Why would you even—" Zayn sighs, because it's Louis. "Jesus Christ."

"We're all friends here."

"I think picturing your three best friends having sex surpasses friendship."

"Not when I've already at the least kissed two of them." Louis says, then, "How come I've never kissed Niall?"

"Because it'd be the last thing you ever did." Zayn replies.

"But Harry can? That seems a bit unfair. I'd let you kiss and have sex with Liam."

"I don't want to have sex with Liam. Oh my god."

"That's insulting." Louis says, and his voice sounds distant when he says, "Zayn wouldn't have sex with you."

And Zayn rolls his eyes and puts his feet on his desk, bracing for the inevitable.

"Well why not then?" Liam says into the phone.

"Hi Liam."

"What've you got against me? I'm attractive."

"You're very attractive."

"I'm more attractive than Harry."

"You're equally attractive as Harry." Zayn says, not lying, but not telling the truth either, and Liam grumbles something inaudible and then says, "I'd have sex with you."

"Everyone would have sex with Zayn. He's fantastic in bed." Louis says, like it's no big deal, and Zayn realizes he's been put on speakerphone. "Very caring."

"What is happening right now?"

"Not even a hand job?" Liam asks, sounding like he's bargaining.

Zayn makes a low, guttural noise akin to a growl and touches a bunch of numbers on the keypad of his phone. "What? Sorry, I can't hear you. You're cutting out."

"Right, Liam, it seems that Zaynie here thinks it's the 90s and that stunt still works."

"To be fair, he still has that Nokia, remember? The one with Snake on it?"

"I am still here. I don't know why but I am." Zayn reminds them.

"One day, Malik." Louis says, “You're gonna give Liam here the best hand job of his life while I simultaneously rock Niall's world. It's only fair. I've been told I have a very skilled mouth."

"He does," Liam confirms. "Guess you'd know that, though."

"I'm very uncomfortable right now." Zayn says, "I'm hanging up."

"Fine. But you're gonna Skype us while you're ménage a trois-ing with Harry, yeah?"

"Oh my god." Zayn says, and hangs up the phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the first and only thing I'm posting by chapter and not all at once because I just want to see how this goes ! 
> 
> you can come chat about it on [tumblr](http://nahdeer.tumblr.com) if you want! that'd be lovely.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He closes his eyes and thinks about running away with Niall--just taking his hand and picking a random place and disappearing with the love of his life. It's just that--as he's picturing himself lying on a giant king bed with the balcony doors open, letting the sounds of the ocean fill the room, the breeze prickling his skin, he realizes he's lying in between both Niall and Harry. He squeezes his eyes shut to get rid of it and he's suddenly behind Harry while he's buttoning up his shirt in the mirror and placing kisses on Harry's neck while Niall teases them about how cute they are from where he's just in his pants and his shirt is halfway buttoned like they're all in the middle of getting ready to go out into town._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for the comments they were lovely!

When Zayn comes home Harry is there again—or is still there it doesn't actually matter—and he's on the couch with his feet propped up on the coffee table, headphones on his head with his laptop in his lap. He doesn't hear Zayn come in, which is obvious when Zayn all but slams the door shut and carelessly throws his keys on the floor beside it and Harry jumps in his place on the couch.

"Oh!" He pounces after his laptop as it nearly collides with the ground, but only manages to bang his head against the coffee table with a miserable, "Ow."

"Hi?" Zayn says, and tries to focus on the fact that Harry is a barely functioning human being and not the fact that Harry's in his apartment right now.

"Hey. Hi. Wha—sorry." Harry manages to get himself and his laptop situated, setting it on the table, before feeling inclined to follow Zayn into the kitchen where he sits at the counter to watch him move about.

"Have you been here all day?" Zayn asks him, flicking his eyes over Harry's body purely to see if he was still wearing the clothes from the night before. It's kind of a disappointment when Zayn realizes he isn't. But then, why would he when there's ample enough to choose from in their apartment. He's wearing a shirt that Zayn vaguely recognizes as his, but it might be Niall's, he can't really remember whose clothes are whose at this point.

"No." Harry frowns, but it just looks like the pout of a disgruntled toddler. "I do have jobs, responsibilities, a life."

"Right, yeah." Zayn nods his head before opening the fridge and grabbing himself a beer. He's more of a wine fan, but he'd let Niall stock the entirety of the bottom drawers with beer in order to fill his biological Irish quota or whatever bullshit Zayn led him to think that he actually believed. He contemplates before grabbing another for Harry.

"Niall texted me and told me to come over after so I did. And then he was immediately called to the hospital."

Zayn turns back to the fridge and drags his finger along the calendar they'd fought over buying. Zayn thought it was too suburban and screamed heterosexual married couple with 3.5 children, but Niall had rightfully made the case that they both sucked with remembering things and when Zayn forgot to call his sister on the day she was awarded with honors at school and his mother chewed him out for it, Zayn went to the shop and bought it himself.

When he sees the red smiley face on the day's date meaning Niall shouldn't be at work and should be spread out on the kitchen counter instead, moaning about the weather being too shit to head to the driving range, or scrolling through his phone and cackling at posts on twitter, he sighs. "I hate it when he gets called in on off days." Zayn says, more to himself than Harry, and takes a swig from his beer. He feels selfish that it's constantly stressful for him because he worries so much about how it's visibly physically and mentally stressful for Niall. They work him too hard and the hours have been insane since day one. Zayn wishes he'd get a job at a private practice instead of the hustle of the hospital, so it's not as demanding, and more heavily appointment based, but Niall loves the hospital and the kids there and Zayn loves him and always respects his choices.

"He said he wouldn't be long." Harry tells Zayn, in an obvious attempt to pacify him. It doesn’t work. "He left about half an hour ago."

"That's what he always says." Zayn shrugs, and doesn't dwell on it because, really, "It's fine. Are you hungry? We can order in, if you'd like."

"No, I'm all right, thanks. I was actually watching a movie. Do you want to watch with me until Niall gets back?"

Zayn contemplates. Such intimate alone time with Harry under different circumstances would be great considering it's become so rare these days, but Zayn doesn't exactly trust himself anymore. There are thoughts circulating in his mind that have always been hidden behind the wall Niall had forcibly knocked down the moment he’d approached Zayn with the idea. They’re wading in his mind, far from festering, just waiting for Zayn to give them release.

"Uh..."

"Come on. It'll take your mind off of Niall. It just started like ten minutes ago." Harry takes his beer and returns to his spot on the couch, setting his computer back in his lap and patting the space next to him. "You honestly look like you need a break." He looks warm and inviting and Zayn hates it more than anything in the world.

"I always need a break." Zayn responds, but obliges, yet not without another lengthy swill from his beer, preparing himself. "What're we watching?" He asks, folding his leg underneath his thigh, having discarded his shoes along the way. The weight shift causes Harry's side to press against Zayn's and Zayn wishes he weren't suddenly so aware of shit like that.

"I dunno. Suggested movie on Netflix. I can't pronounce the title."

"It's in another language?" Zayn makes a face. He's way too tired to be reading subtitles. And he doubts he'll know the language.

"Not a big fan of foreign films, huh?"

"No. I just don't really feel like reading subtitles tonight." Zayn says, defensively. "And don't call them foreign. I hate that."

Harry shrugs, "We can watch something else." He suggests, but looks reluctant to do so.

"No. I wasn't complaining really. You've started it." He doesn't actually want to sit there and whine about being lazy.

"I think they speak partly in English if that helps." Harry says, and Zayn wants to punch himself in the face because Harry won't shut up and honestly that's Harry Styles for you: always wanting to make sure you're satisfied and comfortable—always catering to other people before he even thinks of catering to himself. It's disgusting and Zayn loves it and hates it more than anything in the world.

Harry unplugs his headphones before pressing play, sinking a little further into the cushion and setting the computer on both of their laps. Zayn thankfully doesn't flinch when Harry's hand grazes his thigh in the process.

They watch in silence and after a while, Zayn's knee cramps and he has to lift the laptop up to switch positions, stretching his legs out and propping his feet on the coffee table. Harry follows his lead and somehow that gets them even closer, Harry's thighs pressed against Zayn's where Zayn balances the laptop.

Despite Zayn's momentary distractions, the film is actually interesting and he gets way into the plot. After a scene where the main character potentially ruins his chances to be with his love interest, Zayn rolls his eyes, heated. "She's not trying to trick you, you emotionally stunted idiot."

He's so engrossed in the film that he doesn't notice that Harry's no longer watching, instead taking up interest in watching Zayn himself. Zayn feels the odd sensation that he might be being watched and flicks his eyes over to Harry for a split second in order to not miss anything on the screen. "You're staring."

"Yeah." Harry responds, and it's oddly breathy and it makes Zayn's mind screech to a halt and he turns his head. "You all right?"

"I'm fine." Harry says, nodding his head, then. "But I have to do something."

"Okay?" Zayn only has a moment to frown, confused, before Harry closes the space between them and kisses Zayn's parted lips.

The sparking collision makes Zayn inhale sharply, surprised, but he doesn't pull away. His shoulders relax at the same time his breathing returns to its normal tempo. Harry makes the next move, blindly moving the laptop out of the way before he presses down on Zayn's knee cap until he lets his feet fall to the ground. Zayn eagerly sets his hands on Harry's hips as Harry climbs into his lap, his thighs straddling Zayn's. Harry brings his hands up to hold Zayn's face as he kisses him, Zayn's hand traveling up Harry's wide back, pressing him closer and closer until they're breathing together--their chests flush.

He'd be lying if he said he hadn't been thinking about this all day. Or since Niall came to him with the idea. He's a lot disappointed when Harry presses on his chin, pushing him away. He makes a face, confused as to why Harry's not kissing him anymore, and tries to follow after his mouth but Harry just smiles, mouth shiny, and traces his thumb over Zayn's bottom lip. "Wow. Okay."

"Wow." Zayn echoes back unintentionally, brain fuzzy, squeezing Harry's hip.

Harry pats his cheek and rolls off of his lap, picking the laptop up and again, balancing it on their thighs. He presses play and they go back to watching it normally in oddly comfortable silence.

\----/----

Niall comes home half past midnight looking completely worn out and finds Zayn and Harry on the couch in the dark, Harry's head in Zayn's lap, the blue glow of the television lighting both of their faces.

Zayn's got his hand in Harry's' hair, running his fingers through it and he smiles lazily when Niall enters the room. "Hey babe."

"Hi." Niall leans down to press a kiss to Zayn's lips as he takes off his jacket. "Sorry. I wanted to make it home by dinner but there was a massive car wreck by the hospital. They needed all the hands they could get."

"Very Grey's Anatomy." Zayn comments, yawning. He'd purposefully stayed up until he was sure Niall would get home safe. "It's fine, Ni. You don't have to apologize."

Niall glances down at the motionless and silent Harry in Zayn's lap. "Did you wear him out?" He asks, smirking.

Zayn looks down at Harry and he hopes he doesn't look as fond as he feels. "He passed out halfway through The Purge." Zayn explains, and he thinks it was purposeful because Harry hates thrillers more than anything, but pretends he can watch them so he comes off well. "Come here."

Niall obliges and slides into the tight space between Zayn and the arm of the couch, Harry's limbs taking up most of the couch.

"Hold on—" Zayn scoots over, transferring Harry as he goes so that Niall has more room and Harry's more spread over both of them. Harry only sniffles at the movement and turns his face into what's now Niall's thigh. Zayn thinks the way Niall looks at Harry is the same way he might have been just seconds before.

He laughs, startling Niall who glances up at him curiously. "What's so funny?"

Zayn shakes his head and then rests it on Niall's shoulder. "We made out a bit."

Zayn can feel it when Niall stops breathing, just for a second.

"Without me?"

Niall sounds more shocked than jealous. And Zayn reaches over to brush the hair off of Harry's forehead. "Yeah." Zayn says. "And I really, _really_ liked it, Ni."

"Shit." Niall says, and presses a kiss on top of Zayn's head. "Do you think maybe we're in over our heads with this?"

"Should we stop?" Zayn asks, even though he knows the answer to that.

"No." Niall says, "Just—I’d like to be there if you have the urge to, you know. Do it again."

"Course." Zayn promises and lifts his head to kiss him for real, taking his hand off of Harry to bring it up to Niall's face, where Niall holds it loosely at his wrist.

When they pull apart, Niall turns to press a kiss to Zayn's palm and says, "What do we tell him?"

"I don't want to scare him away." Zayn admits, even if there’s no evidence that Harry would actually be spooked by Zayn’s rapidly increasing admiration.

"Then what—we don't tell him anything?"

"That's kind of my plan." Zayn answers, truthfully. "I don't want to ruin this before it's even started."

"Okay." Niall says, biting his lip. "All right."

"I've lost the feeling in my leg,” Zayn changes the subject, quickly, “Help me carry him?"

"No, hold on. I've got it." Niall says, and leans down to smack Harry's cheek. "Hey! Come on, Styles. It's time for bed. Let's go."

Harry makes the most pathetic whining sound that has Zayn smiling dopily, and brings his arm up to cover his face before Niall can smack it again. "Fuck off."

"You fuck off." Niall retorts, intelligently, wiggling his knee so Harry's head is jostled. “That's it. Fine. I'll just have to use force." Niall motions for Zayn to push Harry's legs off the couch and when he does, Niall grabs Harry's arms and lifts Harry over his shoulder.

Harry screeches in a way that if brought up later he'll describe it as manly: _it was a manly shout_ , he’ll swear as he frolics in an exaggerated manner around the apartment. "Put me down!"

"Stop kicking me." Niall says, composed, "We're stealing you for another night." Harry goes boneless but Niall manages to keep him up, steady, Zayn hovering nearby in case this all goes south which is very likely with these two. "Not letting you drive home this late."

"'M not a child." Harry grumps, precisely like a child, "I don't need you to carry or care about me."

It's Zayn who says, "Tough," following them down the hall and into their bedroom. "We like caring about you."

"Well I don't care about you. Either of you." Harry says, matter of fact, but he's smiling as Niall lays him down gently on the center of the bed. He looks pleased at being spoiled, that almost manically endeared look in his eyes as he watches the two of them fuss.

Zayn tugs on the hem of his pants. "Off now."

"Unless you want us to help." Niall threatens.

Harry makes a face and undoes the zipper on his jeans. Niall disappears into the bathroom, yawning and scratching his head as he goes. Zayn watches him go, admiring the way his top lifted as he stretched his arms, until something soft hits the side of his face.

"You're drooling." Harry teases, arms folded atop the pillow he’s hugging to his chest.

"Do not throw random socks at my face." Zayn reprimands, and realizes they're his before throwing them on the ground. "I don't drool. I admire intensely." Zayn wiggles his eyebrows and Harry groans, "God. Shut up," and shoves a pillow over his face. "Sounds like an old Beebo bio."

"Or your current Twitter." Zayn teases back, and Harry says, "Hey, now," and launches the pillow at Zayn's head.

"What've you done now, Malik?" Niall asks, entering the room shirtless, and Zayn wants to chew him out for leaving his clothes on the floor again.

"I haven't done anything. He's a drama queen."

"I'm trying to sleep!" Harry shouts, voice now muffled by the sheets from where he’s sunken down into the bed beneath them.

"Yes, of course, princess." Zayn says and Niall laughs, climbing into the bed beside Harry and snatching the sheets off of his face.

Zayn goes to brush his teeth and tries not to focus too hard on the giggles coming from the bedroom, tries not to think about Harry's presence, how it makes his stomach pool with an unmistakably pleasant warmth. He takes his time, stalling if he's honest, and considers taking a shower but decides against it. When he gets back into the room, the lights are off and he wonders how much time he'd actually managed to waste in the bathroom before climbing into bed on the other side of Harry and waiting for the inevitable body parts to press against him. It comes in the form of Harry slitting his leg between Zayn's and Niall reaching over Harry's body to rest against Zayn's arm.

Zayn would never admit it but he feels like he can kind of breathe again.

\----/----

Zayn’s first flake is terrible, he’ll admit.

It's early on a Saturday morning a little over two weeks after the Dinner when he hears Harry and Niall burst into the apartment with equally endearing laughs followed by the distinct sound of two thuds hitting the floor.

Zayn startles at the rush of sound and nicks his face where he'd just been dragging a razor over the last patch of his skin and curses.

He'd been looking forward to having a nice, long and quiet morning after Niall slipped out of bed earlier and kissed him on the cheek and told him he was going for a run and out to the Farmer's Market with Harry. He thinks he felt another pair of lips graze across his forehead, but sleep had taken him well under by then.

Zayn thought it would take until the early afternoon, but when he sticks his head out of the bathroom to glance at the bedside clock, it's only just turned eleven.

He mourns for the work he was going to do, the reading he was going to catch up on. The texts and calls he would have definitely made to his family that he definitely wasn't going to put off any longer because apparently he never calls anymore. His mother claims she speaks to Niall more than him, but Zayn highly doubts that’s true. Niall hates talking on the phone.

There's a shout from the front room and another thud and Zayn, despite his disappointment, smiles. When he realizes he's smiling back at himself in the mirror, he rolls his eyes and leans down to rinse his face off.

"Zayn!" Niall shouts his name, followed by a distinct slap and a responding, "Hey," that is so endearingly Harry, Zayn has to squeeze his eyes shut and count to three to subdue himself until another shout of his name interrupts him.

"Alright, alright!" Zayn shouts back, patting his face dry before going in to put an end to whatever they've gotten themselves into.

It's a predictable sight. Niall's got Harry trapped beneath him and Harry's making it as hard as possible for him, wiggling around and trying to jostle him. Niall's got a pretty solid grip and doesn't seem at all fazed.

"I leave you alone for a few hours..." Zayn teases, coming to stand above Harry's head.

Harry promptly stops moving and tilts his head up to smirk up at Zayn's crotch, "Hi there."

Zayn smacks his lips and nudges his foot against Harry's shoulder, "Stop that. Niall get off him."

"Not until he admits that I won."

"Neve—" Harry begins to shout but Zayn immediately bends down and covers his mouth. There's no need to shout, they're all within earshot of each other.

"Won what?" Zayn asks, highly doubting the answer will make this any less ridiculous.

"We ran back here from the market which was closed because it's been raining all morning. I clearly set foot on the steps before him so he tripped me and then ran up here! He’s a cheat."

Harry makes what Zayn assumes is an argumentative grunt and licks Zayn's palm.

"That's not going to get me to move my hand." Zayn says. "Are you going to admit you're a sore loser or am I going to have to make you?"

Niall snorts and says, "Bad man, Malik.”

"Shut up, Ni. Just keep holding him."

"I wouldn’t dream of letting him go."

"Wouldn't dream of allowing you to."

Harry's watching them, eyes narrowed, probably feeling left out, the attention off of him for too long. He tilts his head again to look at Zayn and says something against his hand.

"What was that?” Zayn’s hand was starting to get damp, but he kept on, unbothered, “Couldn't hear you, babe."

It’s quick. Harry unexpectedly knees Niall in the thigh, which makes Niall's grip on one of his arms loosen. But Zayn doesn't flinch, watching amused as Harry uses his free arm to take Zayn’s wrist and pull his hand away from his mouth.

When he licks his lips and says, "I said I want you to make me," none of it is actually funny anymore and Zayn freezes.

Niall releases Harry's other hand and places his hands on either side of Harry's head and smiles down at him, quite like he can't believe he's real. But also like he's been waiting forever for this moment. And he has, Zayn knows. He’s tiptoed around Harry for weeks, they both have, once friendly touches, lingering, turning into something inexplicably more, carefully watching each other, eyes filled with mirth, with admiration, fascination, with promise.

Zayn feels heavy under Harry's gaze, those bewilderingly sparkling eyes that seem to paralyze those on the receiving end, and this is not how he wanted this to go down. Not on the floor. Not at 11 o'clock in the morning. Not after he and Niall have just spent two hours running god knows where and are sweating through their shirts. Not when he hasn't fully managed to mentally prepare himself.

So, naturally—Zayn bolts.

"I have to go."

He doesn't like the way Harry's face falls, the shine seemingly ripped away, his mouth turned into a near pout, or the way Niall looks up at him, confused as to why he'd pass up the perfect segue into what they've been dancing around for weeks. He doesn't like it at all.

"Where are you going?" Niall asks, climbing off of Harry's lap as Zayn gets to his feet and grabs a random hoodie off the arm of the couch. It's obviously Harry's because it's a Packers hoodie, but that doesn't matter, it's raining and he's not just going to leave without being prepared for the possibility of ending up sitting outside on a curb somewhere and trying not to freak out.

"I've got things to catch up on at the office. Deadlines. Important deadlines. I'll be back later."

"You never go in on Saturday." Niall accuses him. He's tugging on the end of his shirt. He only does it when he's anxious and Zayn hates it, hates seeing him like that. Especially hates being the cause of it. "Zayn—I'm. We should talk, yeah?"

Zayn shakes his head, "No worries, babe. I'll bring dinner home?" He flinches at the implication that he'll be gone for the rest of the day.

Harry tries to remedy the situation, always there to try and make things better, "Zayn, wait. You don't have to leave. I'll leave. I've obviously made things uncomfortable for you."

"No. Harry, you're...it's fine. I've just really got to go. You know—"

"Deadlines, right." Niall finishes, and he sounds pissed. "Okay. Do what you need to do, then.” Niall curses and turns and stalks away, toward their bedroom and Zayn watches him go until he hears the bedroom door slam shut.

Harry exhales, heavy, and all but glares at Zayn. "I guess I'll handle that. And you can go and take care of all those important things you need to do."

When Zayn hears the door slam shut again, he figures it's time he leaves.

\----/----

He ends up texting Liam and agreeing to meet up with him at the Starbucks around the corner from his and Louis' apartment. Zayn’s not actually a fan of Starbucks coffee so he orders a pastry and sits at a table near the front windows.

The rain has dwindled down to a muggy drizzle and Zayn thinks the weather fits the way he feels to a tee.

When Liam comes in, he's wearing a snapback and a white shirt with a scarf hanging out of his back pocket and Zayn shakes his head. He hasn't said anything about it for the past year or so and he's not going to start now.

"Hey, Zayn." Liam greets leaning down to hug him hello. Zayn hooks his chin over Liam's shoulder and buries his face in his neck—he's always loved Liam's hugs. They make him feel safe and secure, but he'd never admit that to Liam because Liam would constantly smile that crinkly, squinty eyed smile and Zayn doesn't think the world would be able to handle that.

"Hey, man. Thanks for meeting me out of the blue."

"You know I'm always here for you. I like it! Being there for someone! It's a good feeling."

Zayn wants to argue that he's glad Liam finds pleasure in his pain, but Liam wouldn't understand anyway. He never does.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Liam asks, sensing that this is clearly not just Zayn needing a distraction from whatever has made him upset.

Zayn pokes at one of his scones and shrugs. "Not really."

"Alright. That's fine. Then we'll talk about something else, then. How's the job?"

Zayn thinks about how his lead intern has been out sick for a week with pneumonia and how he actually does have an upcoming deadline to ensure gets met and he rubs at his temples. "Stressful." He moans, "I think I need a vacation."

"That could be good for you." Liam hums. "How about this: If you could go anywhere in the world right now where would you go?"

Zayn chuckles tiredly at the clichéd question and rests his elbows on the table. "Dunno. Bali? Where would you go?"

"The Bahamas. I'd go home right now, pack a suitcase, grab Louis, and get on a flight. I'd lay up on the beach for days and not think about anything but the sun and Louis. "

Zayn hums this time. He closes his eyes and thinks about running away with Niall--just taking his hand and picking a random place and disappearing with the love of his life. It's just that--as he's picturing himself lying on a giant king bed with the balcony doors open, letting the sounds of the ocean fill the room, the breeze prickling his skin, he realizes he's lying in between both Niall and Harry. He squeezes his eyes shut to get rid of it and he's suddenly behind Harry while he's buttoning up his shirt in the mirror and placing kisses on Harry's neck while Niall teases them about how cute they are from where he's just in his pants and his shirt is halfway buttoned like they're all in the middle of getting ready to go out into town. The image changes again and Niall has Harry laid out in front of him, his head between his legs, taking him apart while Zayn watches Harry's back arch, runs his hand down his torso and wraps it around Harry's dick to pull him off as Niall licks him out.

"You all right, Zaynie?"

Zayn blinks his eyes open to see Liam staring at him with a worried look on his face. He clears his throat before taking a chance at speaking, "Yeah. M'alright, bro."

"You sure? You look a bit pale." Liam says, "Is this all you've eaten today?" When Zayn nods, Liam looks mortified. "That's not food at all. Come on, I'm taking you out for lunch."

"I'm not hungry."

"Then you can sit and watch me eat. Obviously I'm not leaving you alone when you're all spacey like this."

Zayn doesn't actually want to be left alone either. "Ok. But I really don't want KFC."

Liam gives him an offended look. "There's nothing wrong with KFC."

Zayn just snorts and lets Liam put his arm around his shoulders as they leave.

\----/----

Liam thankfully doesn't ask if he's all right until he's dropping him off after spending the rest of the day on Liam and Louis' couch with them using him as their pillow, watching them be the weirdest couple known to mankind. Zayn didn't understand it when Louis had come to him a year and six months after they'd broken up and announced that he was probably, definitely, certainly in love with Liam. Zayn thought they hated each other, or at the very least, were forced into tolerating each other. They met through Harry who was Liam's oldest, best friend and Niall's eccentric roommate, and within two minutes of being acquainted, they got into an unnecessarily verbally violent fight over what they should have for dinner.

Zayn had been in his crush stage with Niall then, and used any opportunity to get him to laugh, so he'd make jokes about them being an old married couple and Niall would squeeze Zayn's hip and whisper into his ear that he'd bet money on them hooking up by the end of the semester. It became a running joke--one that they shared--the first one actually, and they'd ask Liam what they're going to name their dogs, and tease Louis after Liam buys him his favorite coffee order. After Louis and Liam officially got together, he and Niall still whispered into each other's ears, still giggled into each other's shoulders, and Louis loudly pointed out to a room full of mostly inebriated people that he and Liam weren't even an excuse anymore.

Zayn’s rather glad Liam offered to take him home because he had rode the bus, not wanting to get behind the wheel. Especially since it started pouring at the exact time Zayn would have been at the bus stop waiting. The Packers hoodie would've been useless.

When they pull up into a space in the parking lot by their building, Liam turns down the radio and asks, sincerely, "Is there something wrong between you and Niall?" When Zayn doesn't say anything, just turns his head to look out the window, Liam presses, "Is this about Harry?"

" _No_." Zayn snaps. "It's not about Harry."

"Really? Because it kind of sounds like it is. And—" He eyes Zayn's clothing choice, being too damn observant.

"Liam, everything's fine. I just needed some space." Zayn assures him. He thinks maybe he could be assuring himself.

"Well you've never needed space before. There's obviously a big difference between before and now."

Zayn reaches for the door handle, pausing before pulling it, "Look, I'm just tired. And to be honest, I'm feeling very confused. But I need to deal with it on my own, I think? Please understand that."

"You're always trying to deal with shit on your own, Zayn. It almost never works out and you end up going into these awful moods that we don't know how to pull you out of. It scares us a lot. All of us." Liam tells him, looking back at him almost pleadingly. "At least talk to Niall? Please talk to Niall. You made promises to each other, didn't you? Just—don't break them."

Zayn swallows and nods his head. "Yeah, Li. All right."

"Call me anytime you need me."

"Promise."

"Bye, Zayn. Love you."

Zayn hops out into the rain and waves into the car. "Love you, too. Love you forever."

Zayn paces outside the door for at least five minutes before straightening up and realizing how utterly ridiculous he's being.

When he walks into the apartment, there's music playing, some classic rock band that Zayn can't name off the top of his head because he's not a 56-year-old white man and Niall and Harry are in the kitchen. Harry's got an apron on and Niall's sat on top of the counter, cackling with his hand clutching his stomach at a dance Harry's doing that's just him waving his arms in the air with a spatula in his hand and moving his hips back and forth. For the second time, he finds himself smiling endearingly at them, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms over his chest to watch.

When they finally notice him, it's almost like a record scratch. Harry turns around and points the spatula at Zayn and says, "Hi! No! You can't be here," which hits Zayn quite hard.

"Oh. I—"

"No. Harry. Idiot. He doesn't mean it like that, don't start looking all sad." Niall slides off the counter and walks over to grab Zayn's hand. "We were gonna surprise you." He explains, leading him out of the kitchen and into the living room.

Zayn visibly relaxes. Right. "Surprise me with what?"

Niall presses him down onto the couch and grins. "Do you understand what a surprise is?"

Zayn shrugs, says, "I want to talk to you. To both of you. I want to say I'm sorry."

Niall waves a dismissive hand. "Forget about it." He says, in a near perfect imitation and Zayn rolls his eyes despite himself. "I think your guilt is punishment enough. Stay here. Don't move."

"What are you up to?" Zayn asks, suspiciously. "You and Harry's surprises always end up turning to shit."

"This is different."

"That's what you always say. And then the fire alarm goes off, or someone flies off a sled and bangs their chin up, or someone gets arrested."

"Whoa, all right. That was one time." Niall laughs, "And all of those were Harry's ideas. This one is mine. It's foolproof. Relax."

"Just please don't hurt yourselves. I don't want anyone in the hospital tonight." Zayn begs.

"Babe. Trust me. We've got this."

\----/----

They bake a strawberry cake—Zayn's favorite—and Harry burns his hand on the pan when taking it out and Niall reacts by grabbing the pan from him without realizing he doesn't have an oven mitt on and the pan goes crashing to the ground.

Zayn ends up rubbing cream on their injured hands and trying not to laugh and tell Niall he very much told him so.

Niall is grumpy, saying, "If you laugh, I'm leaving you, I'm running away with Harry and we'll be happier without you."

Zayn snorts and says, "You won't survive one day without me, babe." He glances up at Harry who's staring at his burn marks with curiosity. He's probably named them by now. "Neither of you would. You're barely functioning idiots, but—" He holds a hand to his chest, "you're _my_ barely functioning idiots."

That makes Harry lift his head up and groan, throwing a roll of gauze at Zayn’s head. "Booooo."

"You're the worst." agrees Niall, but he's grinning.

Zayn just smiles.

\----/----

Predictably, they fall into a pattern. It becomes so normal that Zayn, for a time, starts to forget about the initial reason they've embedded themselves in each other's lives.

They get wrapped up into each other: Harry stays over more and cuddles with them on the couch while they're catching up on TV, he makes an honest-to-god grocery list on actual pen and paper and goes shopping to stock their fridge with fresh fruits and vegetables and foods that adhere to his own healthy eating kick, forcing Zayn and Niall to drink Kale and fruit smoothies before they go to work, or teaming up with Niall to cook calories conscious recipes from the Food Network.

When someone kisses Harry again, it's Niall on his way out the door after being called into work. He's pulling on his scrub top as he passes Zayn sat at the kitchen counter with his glasses on his face, trying to get through a proposal that he'd assigned to one of his interns, giving it a second set of eyes.

"I should be back before midnight,” Niall announces, “Don't wait up for me. I appreciate it, but you always wake up cranky." Niall wraps his arms around Zayn from behind and Zayn tilts his head to give him a kiss.

"You know I'm just going to wait up anyway."

"Yeah, I know. Love you." Niall kisses him again and Harry waves from where he's lying on the couch with his laptop on his stomach.

"Bye, Niall. Promise me you'll make a bunch of kids smile."

Niall grabs his jacket on his way over to the couch and smiles at Harry, holds out his pinky, "Pinky promise, come on."

When Harry holds out his pinky, distractedly, eyes still on his computer screen, Niall twists them together and brings his other hand up to turn Harry's head to face him. He doesn't give Harry much more of a warning before he's kissing him.

Zayn freezes—feeling a bit of déjà vu as Harry makes a satisfied sound and wraps their pinkies tighter. When Niall finally pulls back, Harry's staring at him a bit dazed.

"What was that for?"

Niall lifts his shoulders in a shrug and pulls his jacket on, sending a wink Zayn's way that makes Zayn roll his eyes. "Had to kiss my good luck charms."

"Maybe you should do it more often. Never know when you're gonna need luck." Harry says, quite seriously, before turning back to his laptop. "Maybe Zayn could take a page out of your book."

"Maybe he should." Niall agrees.

Zayn snorts, refusing to take their bait. "Could’ve sworn you were going somewhere.”

\---/---

Louis calls when Zayn is stuck in traffic after driving home from Trader Joe’s, reluctantly put in charge of picking up the list of things scrawled in a mixture of both Harry and Niall’s starkly different handwriting, stuck to the refrigerator this week.

Louis sounds aggravated, huffing out a “Hey, hold on. For fuck’s sake,” followed by a mixture of sounds coming through the phone that make Zayn turn down the radio, amused while listening to Louis’ complaints.

“What are you doing right now?” Zayn asks, rolling down the window to let the breeze in. The temperature is the highest it’s been since the start of the season, and Zayn’s shirt is damp and uncomfortable, his back nearly sticking to the seats of his car. He’s been on the verge of dehydration or spontaneous combustion or heat exhaustion or possibly just instant death. He can feel the sun’s rays on his skin like a burn.

It takes a moment for Louis to answer, grunting, and cursing, before saying, “I am walking Liam’s demon spawn and it’s hot and I’m starving, Zayn. Take me out for breakfast.”

“It’s one in the afternoon, Lou.”

“Lunch then, food, whatever the fuck. Does it matter what time it is?”

When they meet, Zayn realizes that Louis might have had an ulterior motive, but it’s too late to back out.

Zayn only glances at him before saying, “You look miserable,” and Louis is immediately responding with a “You look sweaty,” that has Zayn laughing and pulling Louis into his side to kiss the side of his head.

They’re placed in the outdoor seating of Kona Grill with Liam’s (and Louis’, but he’ll never own up to them) dogs sat beside Louis’ chair, exhausted from the heat and the walk.

Louis looks shifty at first, eyeing Zayn over the rim of his sangria, and Zayn flushes under the attention, scraping his fork obnoxiously against his half empty plate that held the appetizers they’d ordered.

“What is it?” Zayn asks, finally, close to losing it, if he’s honest. “Stop staring at me.”

“Just trying to see if there are any noticeable changes since you started fucking Harry.”

Zayn fumbles his grip on his fork, the silverware landing on the table with a clang, “We haven’t, actually. I’d appreciate it if you stayed out of it.”

“Please, Zayn.” Louis says, holding up a chastising hand, “When have I ever minded my own business? It’s like you don’t know me at all.”

Zayn rolls his eyes, “I know plenty. I know you better than anyone else.”

“Well I feel like I don’t know you at all,” Louis retaliates, “If you’re not fucking him, what are you doing?”

"You can't just have a threesome with your best friend," Zayn says, which isn’t exactly an answer.

"So you're dating him."

"We're not—that's not what it is. We're just." He stumbles.

"Hanging out, making him dinner, letting him sleep over, kissing him? Sorry, do friends do that?"

"Yes?" Zayn says, "That's literally what friends do."

Louis sips his drink like he’s about to say something controversial, "Liam’s your friend. Don't remember you kissing Liam."

“Jesus, Lou. There’s a difference.”

“Is there? You’re not doing very well, here, Zayn.”

“Leave it, Louis. For once, just stop pressing me. Why do you always have to do this?”

“That—right there. You see that? That’s always been your problem. It’s not just about you, Zayn. You never think about anyone else, you’re chronically self-involved. I feel like you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“This wasn’t my idea.”

“I don’t care. Niall thinks shit through, most of the time. You don’t. You just dive headfirst into things without thinking about how it affects other people. You make rash decisions.”

“And you don’t?” Zayn retorts.

“I never said that I didn’t. Zayn, look,” Louis starts, setting his glass down on the table and leveling Zayn with an almost concerned gaze, “You’re my best friend. I care about you, so much. I’d fight, kill, and maybe die for you, I’m not sure, I kind of enjoy being alive, but I just want you to know that I am only concerned because of how much I love you. And Niall and god help me, Harry, for some odd fucking reason.”

“Are you saying you want me to be careful.” Zayn says it like a statement, bland.

“I guess? I don’t know. Just—be mindful? You’ve gotten yourself into something that’s—it’s not like it is with just you and Niall, you know? And it sure as hell isn’t like you and me. You’ve gotta be more careful.”

Zayn hates that, like always, from the very beginning, from the first time they kissed, to the last time, saying goodbye to whatever it was that they had, Louis was always right. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the last chapter's the smutty one if that's what you're waiting for so that's exciting


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He gets a text from Louis telling him _this is fucked_ , and one from Liam telling him to _get your shit together_ and Zayn feels like he's been slapped across the face when he reads that coming from Liam. He doesn't know exactly what he needs to do or how he needs to go about it. But he sends off a text to both Louis and Liam and tells them he's going to fix it anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> was gonna wait another day but it was finished so i figured what the hell! most of what happens here only exists merely to have everyone kiss each other and love each other and so I can try out pairings i've never written!

Zayn starts to stay late at work, gradually increasing his own hours as to not draw attention to his absence at home. He feels cowardly, hiding away.

It gets to the point where he stays until nearly ten at night. He watches TV in his dimly lit office, shoes off and feet propped on the desk while he fumbles to eat Chinese takeout with chopsticks that he's not yet mastered. He puts his phone on vibrate (he wouldn't dare put it on silent) and personalizes the vibrating patterns to everyone who might call him, just so he can tell whose call to pick up and whose to let vibrate, having thrown it in the bottom most drawer of his desk.

It wasn't exactly that he was avoiding his most fucked up home life situation as he was separating himself from it for awhile. And he did have work to catch up on, which was the message he'd sent to Niall before phone-iling himself. He'd just done it within twenty minutes of staying late and then decided to watch movie or two. He knows it's ridiculous to stay after work for four hours and it's ridiculous that he spilled noodles all over his favorite shirt and it’s even more ridiculous that he even had to buy noodles for dinner when he knew Niall had called Zayn earlier and offered to make dinner and even offered to do the grocery shopping and it's ridiculous that Niall only wanted to make dinner because of Harry and it's ridiculous that Harry was incorporated into their daily routine, and it's ridiculous that Zayn's pulse speeds when Harry stands behind Niall at the counter while he's washing dishes and puts his arms around him and kisses Niall's neck as Niall leans into him and laughs as Harry uses the opportunity to grab his dick, Niall retaliating by flicking soapy water at him.

It's ridiculous that Zayn comes home sometimes to Harry lying on their bed, having fallen asleep with his glasses on and a book in his hand or on the balcony talking on the phone with his mother or Louis or Liam like he's home, making himself a space, and it's ridiculous that Zayn wants to kiss him when he's near but Niall is never there when he feels the need and instead settles for lengthy cuddles and holding hands and kisses on the cheek and when Niall is there Zayn only wants to watch Harry and Niall together, watch them goof around with each other like normal but it's so far from normal the way Zayn climbs into bed almost every night and says goodnight to two people, the way he sometimes wakes up between the two of them, the way he kisses them both softly before getting ready for work.

Zayn doesn't even know how to begin to understand how it all happened. Except that he knows that it's all Niall's fault. And his original plan hasn't even been put into action. And that's what freaks Zayn out the most. He thinks maybe they've both forgotten all about it, having been swept up by the overwhelming untold, unspoken feelings that they've managed to get themselves into. But Zayn can't stop thinking about it. He and Niall still have sex—but only the times when Harry stays at his own flat because, "I don't actually live here, you know." And every time it feels like there's something missing, a goofy laugh and an inappropriate and bad joke.

Zayn knows he and Niall still have their relationship, it might be stronger than ever, but sometimes when they're watching TV and Niall lays down in Zayn's lap, or eating dinner and only having to set out two plates, Zayn kind of misses Harry's warm presence. And they talk about it. When Niall comes home from another long shift at the hospital, and he's tired and cranky and Zayn massages his back and kisses his neck and Niall tells him that he kind of misses Harry. When Zayn agrees with him, they call him up and Harry tells them he's only been gone for less than 24 hours and that he'll be over in ten minutes. And that's when they realize they'd managed to get themselves more involved than intended. And that's when Zayn has an inner panic which led to this exact moment: him picking up dropped noodles from the floor of his office, blowing on them, and sticking them back into his mouth.

He's not avoiding—he's distancing himself, at least that's what he keeps telling himself as he yet again ignores the heartbeat vibration signifying Niall's call.

\----/----

Niall is a little more than mildly pissed when Zayn comes home, at least that's what he comes off as when he swings open the door as Zayn is fumbling with his keys. He must've been loud. Or Niall could've been sitting at the door, waiting for any sound that might be him. Zayn suddenly feels like the biggest asshole on the planet.

"Ni—"

"This is four times now, Zayn. Please don’t do that again." Niall says, simply, voice surprisingly leveled, but Zayn knows him well enough to know he's shaken up, but relieved.

"Okay." Zayn responds. "I promise."

Niall opens the door wider and Zayn walks into his arms, leaning to press a kiss to his lips. "I'm sorry,” he tries, but Niall presses a hand to his chest, pushing him back.

Niall doesn't say anything and Zayn knows Niall's not going to truly forgive him for a while. Zayn expects that. Niall doesn't like to make a big show of anything. If he doesn't like something, he'll make it known, but he won't make a scene. It's all in his face, Zayn's come to learn. It was one of the first things that Zayn noticed about him, that drew him to Niall. He'll say what he has to say, what he feels, but he won't let it turn into a big deal.

He hates drama, usually, but Zayn watches him walk away, slamming the door shut and locking himself in their room.

It’s late when Niall comes out of their room and opens the fridge to get a late night snack, something he only does when he’s anxious, and promptly ignores Zayn who drops what he's doing and leans against the counter and crosses his arms and watches Niall silently. He tries to rinse off the grapes angrily and sullenly but Zayn's a pain in the ass, he’s good at that, and he sets his chin on Niall's shoulder and kisses his neck.  
Niall drops the bag of grapes and grips the edge of the sink when Zayn places his hands on his hips and kisses down the expanse of his throat. "Stop." He mutters, and it's weak and Zayn knows he's just trying to keep up with appearances now.

"I'm sorry," Zayn says, and one of his hands drag slowly under Niall's shirt, resting low on his stomach. "Do you forgive me?"

Niall leans into Zayn's kisses, tilting his neck. "I'm pissed." But when Zayn's hand dips below the pair of sweatpants he has on, he doesn't pull away.

"I'm an idiot." Zayn says, and then, dragging his mouth up Niall's neck and to his ear, he says, "let me make it up to you."

He works his hand over Niall's dick and Niall responds rather quickly, growing hard in Zayn's hand through tight little pulls that have heat pooling in his belly.

"Let me take care of you, yeah?"

Niall nods his head and grips the sink tighter as Zayn's pace picks up. "Fucking—piece of shit." He breathes.

"I love you." Zayn tells him, "I love you so much."

He turns Niall around and presses his hips into the counter. When he sinks to his knees, he takes the sweatpants down with him. Niall's not touching him, still stubbornly holding into the edge of the counter.

"You can't treat me like that, Zayn. You can’t treat Harry like that."

Zayn hums around his dick.

"'M serious. You— _ah_. Fuck." Niall finally touches him, a hand on the back of Zayn's head. "We all have to. To respect each other," he says, trying to inch himself deeper into Zayn's mouth.

Zayn pulls off and replaces his mouth with his hand again, staring up at Niall with his lips a shiny, dark pink that has Niall biting his own. "I do respect you. Both of you. I would never ever want to hurt you."

"I know." Niall says through a sigh, relaxing into the feeling of Zayn's pull on his dick, his body sagging against the counter. "I know."

"Come here. Wanna make you feel so good, Ni." Zayn releases his dick, only to put his hands on Niall's hips and pull him forward, dipping his head to suck Niall back into his mouth.

Niall keens, "Jesus," placing his hands on Zayn's shoulders and trying not to buck up into his mouth, although he probably thinks distantly that it’s justified.

When Niall comes, Zayn taking it all in his mouth before he swallows, he says, sternly, "I'm still mad,” pulling up his sweatpants, but still watching Zayn licks his lips and wipe his mouth with the back of his hand like he always does. He very stubbornly avoids looking at Zayn's blatantly hard dick and turns back to the sink to finish rinsing off his grapes.

"S’alright. I like making you come." Zayn says, pressing a kiss at the nape of Niall’s neck before leaving the kitchen entirely.

That evening, he decides to sleep in the guest bedroom to give Niall his space but sometime during the night, he feels the bed shift and arms wrap around his middle and he turns his body to face Niall who blinks at him sleepily.

"I'm sorry." Zayn immediately apologizes and kisses Niall’s nose and pulls him closer, their bodies flush together.

"Love you. So much." Niall mumbles, eyelids shut. He doesn’t know how to remain pissed at someone for longer than a few hours. He tucks his hands down the back of Zayn’s pants, copping a feel before resting them at the bottom of his spine. "'M gonna fuck you so hard in the morning."

Zayn chuckles, low and quietly. "Go to sleep, Ni."

\----/----

Niall doesn’t keep his promise in the morning and Zayn wakes up alone, the sheets beside him cold. He thinks maybe he’s been left completely alone, but he hears movement in the kitchen, the sound of two things colliding almost angrily.

Zayn climbs out of bed reluctantly, finding Niall in the kitchen alone. He’s sweeping, the plastic of the broom hitting against the bottom of the stove, the counters, the fridge.

"Where's Harry?" Zayn asks, with a glance around the room. He had expected him to be sitting on the couch last night, like always, or, now, standing close by and waiting for his turn to chew Zayn out.

Zayn's almost disappointed to not see him which makes his extensive after work inner therapy session a proper waste of time.

"Home,” Niall says, shortly.

"Oh." Zayn is actually kind of hurt that Harry had left Niall alone with his worry and anger all night. The combination's never been too good on Niall in the past.

Niall drops the broom and walks over to the sink, Zayn trailing behind him. He watches him toss around dishes, mindlessly separating them, obviously searching for something to do with his head. "I sent him home." Niall tells him.

"Why?"

Niall doesn't say anything, turning on the tap and running the water in one side of the sink to soak the dishes. He keeps his back turned, away from Zayn. It’s not until Zayn starts to move closer to him that he talks, Zayn pausing misstep. "I know you're freaking out." Niall says. "That's why I sent him away."

"I'm not freaking out."

"You don't have to lie." Niall shakes his head. "I think we needed a break."

It's Zayn's turn to stay quiet.

Niall wasn't wrong to send him away. It's obvious that they all needed to sit and think about what the hell kind of mess they'd gotten themselves into. Zayn just didn't think he'd have such a gaping hole in his chest at the thought of it all stopping, of it all being too much for them to handle.

He wants to reach out to Niall, wrap his arms around him, and pull him close. But he stays where he is. "I think we need to talk to him, Ni."

"I know." Niall says, and when he sighs, Zayn can see it in his shoulders, the way they fall, relaxing. “I know.”

\----/----

They haven't seen Harry for days, almost a week. But he doesn’t disappear, that may be impossible with the way they’ve attached themselves to each other’s limbs.

He texts and tells them about foolish people at the library, the office, and the school, tells them about the couple he found in the encyclopedia section in a group text with Louis and Liam and complains about never having had the experience of a public blowjob from Louis Tomlinson—a complaint that delights Louis and has Zayn texting that’s not happening before he can think about what that protective instinct means.

Zayn purposefully works less and Niall works more and they find themselves hanging out with Louis and Liam more, filling up the time they hadn’t realized was occupied by Harry.

They double date to the movies and Louis tries to stick his hand down Niall's pants during a particularly loud fighting scene and pouts a lot when Zayn throws popcorn at him and it gets lost in his rats nest of hair.

Zayn thinks he's pretty much done hanging out with the weirdest couple known to mankind when they all go back to Louis and Liam's and Liam follows him into the bathroom and tries to kiss him against the sink.

He manages to press his lips against Zayn's for half a second and Zayn punches him in the stomach and leaves without fucking peeing. He should've known not to leave Louis alone with Niall because when he comes back, Louis' leaned into Niall's space on the couch, pressing kisses against his cheek.

"For Christ’s sake." Zayn says, "I don't understand why you're not stopping him."

"Why would I?" Niall says, and he's got an arm resting on the back of the couch like he's honestly about to take what Louis so desperately wants to give him. "It's just a kiss, isn't it?"

"This is not what friends do." Zayn tells them, and it feels like a repeat of Louis’ words, and it gives him pause for a moment until Liam returns shortly after him, making a sad face and shaking his head at Louis who groans.

"Zayn—why won't you kiss my boyfriend?"

"That shouldn't even be a sentence coming out of your mouth."

"I'm going to kiss your boyfriend,” Louis states, “And you'll see how easy it is. How apparently normal it is.”

"None of this is normal." Zayn responds. "Please take your hand off of him."

"He's not your _property_ , Zayn. Look—we’re even offering to let you watch."

"It's not a big deal." Niall tells him, and he's raising an eyebrow at Zayn, challenging, before leaning forward to capture Louis’ lips. Louis makes the most pleased sound Zayn has ever heard and it’s like déjà vu as Zayn watches Louis eagerly grab onto his face and fist his hair.

"Oh my god." Liam says, but it's warmer than anything and Zayn rolls his eyes.

"This is so fucking weird. Please don’t follow me,” Zayn says, even though he knows Liam will follow him all the way outside.

He reaches into his jacket pocket angrily, taking out a cigarette, and before he can reach for his lighter, there's one already lit in front of his face, and Zayn mumbles a weak, pissy, "thanks." And lets Liam ignite the end of his cigarette.

Zayn doesn't ask him why he carries around a lighter if neither he nor Louis smokes regularly. Liam leans against the railing and starts toying with it, and Zayn stares out at their view of the city. It's not as comforting as he'd hoped it be. It's kind of too cold to be out and his fingers are starting to feel numb, and Liam must be freezing without so much as a jacket on.

After a while, Zayn turns his head a little, casting a quick glance over at Liam. "Why aren't you watching?"

Liam laughs, but it's more like a short chuckle. "Why aren't you?"

"I'd rather not watch my boyfriend and my ex have at it, you know?" Liam doesn't say anything, but Zayn watches his face react and he figures there's something on Liam's mind that he's not saying. "What, Li." Zayn asks.

Liam shakes his head, shrugging. "Nothing."

"Don't. Don't do that just say what you have to say."

Liam hesitates, standing up straight and using the railing to hold onto as he rocks back on his heels, biting his lip. "It's just that I don't think I understand."

Zayn finishes up his cigarette and throws the butt over the railing, causing Liam to frown. "What don't you understand?"

"Well you say you don't want to see Niall with someone else but yet—" he stops and shakes his head again. "Nevermind."

"Liam. Just spit it out, bro."

Liam looks like he's in pain when he says, "I know what's been going on with Harry.”

Zayn shrugs. "Yeah, well. Niall told you months ago."

"No." Liam says, "Zayn, no. You and I both know that never actually happened. Not the way it was supposed to."

"Then I don't understand what you're talking about. Honestly, I—"

"You're in love," Liam says, "You both are. Niall's just dealing with it a lot differently than you. By, you know—actually dealing with it."

Zayn feels his stomach drop to his knees. "I'm not in love." He says, eyeing Liam cautiously.

"Of course not." Liam says, "You just don't like the idea of Niall with anyone else but you and Harry. And “just friends” don't make out with “just friends”. And yet."

"That's bullshit. I'm letting that happen." He motions to the door, wishing he’d forgotten the reason he'd come out to the balcony in the first place. He can't even imagine what they're doing by now. Louis' probably trying to convince Niall into letting them actually fool around and it kind of makes Zayn feel dizzy, almost sick.

Liam runs a hand over his face like this whole thing is stressing him out or causing him the most grief. "Jesus, Zayn. I don't quite understand it. I don't know how the two of you work now with Harry—"

"Does Louis tell you this? And where does he get it from? Why do you both know so much about what's none of your business?"

"Don't attack me, I'm only trying to understand. I want to help you through this. I want to help you both. Louis and I do."

Zayn tries not to look so offended, but it's getting kind of hard. "Is that what that is? Louis helping?"

"Louis thinks it will sort out mixed feelings."

"I can't imagine how." Zayn responds reaching into his pocket again, but Liam stops him, walks forward and grabs his hand and presses him against the railing. Zayn rolls his eyes, knowing what's going to come next and lets it happen, Liam leaning forward to press his lips against Zayn's.

Zayn doesn't even understand how this is going to help him sort out his weird feelings for Harry, how making out with Liam will give him enough courage to intensify the relationship between the three of them, but. Well, he's not going to stop if Liam's biting his bottom lip like that, is he.

"I want you to be brave, okay? I want you to take chances." Liam pulls away, wraps his arm around Zayn into a hug in which Zayn returns, burrowing his face into Liam's neck.

"You sound like a shitty life counselor."

"You sound like an emotionally stunted asshole. Come on. I think you and Niall need to have a chat."

"I'd rather not."

"It'll be easy. Louis has a way of convincing people to do things they think are difficult, when they’re really just afraid.”

Zayn lets Liam squeeze his hand, leading him back into the flat, and tries not to think anything of it when he knows exactly what Liam means.

\----/----

They're both thankfully clothed when Zayn and Liam return. Niall is lying on the couch while Louis' sitting on the ground cross-legged with a controller in his hand. Zayn wonders if anything even happened at all.

"How'd it go? Did you give him a handy, Li?"

Liam laughs softly, fondly, that laugh only meant for Louis and kisses him on the forehead. "Not everyone's easy like you."

" _Excuse_ me. I'm friendly." Louis retorts and Zayn tries his best to tune them out as he crawls onto the couch, and up Niall's body.

He makes a retaliating sound, distracted by the game Louis' playing but scoots up more so he's leaning against the arm of the couch and Zayn can sit up in his lap. "Ni." Zayn says, and pokes his chest, notices the red marks there, remembering that they’re actually from him, and running his finger over it, making Niall turn his head. His lips are bruised red and Zayn blinks at how slightly out of it he looks. "Did you smoke as well?"

"A little." Niall replies, and then he's pulling at Zayn's jacket. "Take this off."

"No. We need to talk." Zayn is speaking softly, under the voices of Liam and Louis, who are now arguing over game strategy. "Later." He adds. If Niall was stoned and complacent like this there wasn't going to be any conversation. "You didn't smoke it all, did you?"

Niall shakes his head and points toward the coffee table, "It's there. Louis wouldn't smoke it all with me." He doesn't seem too upset about it and Zayn leans over to grab the joint and put it between his lips. Niall tries to pull on his jacket again. "C'mon. Take it off."

"We're not having sex right now." Zayn reprimands and climbs off of Niall's lap, despite his whine of protest. "What the hell did you do to him, Lou?"

"Magic." Louis says.

And Liam laughs and snatches the controller out of his hand. "Ego maniac."

"Oh, please, you’ve never complained before.”

"Zayn, c’mon. Touch me please." Niall says, poking Zayn's thigh with his foot.

"Yeah, Zayn. Touch his dick. He wouldn't let me anywhere near it." Louis says, sounding upset about it.

"I'm not gonna contribute to Louis' obsession with us all having sex." Zayn says.

“You're being rude.” Louis frowns, and pulls on the collar of Liam's shirt. “Liam, please tell our guests if they're not going to put out, they'll be _put out_."

Liam snorts, his phone buzzing where it's by his leg, "Please don't include me in this."

"I just don't understand what the problem is with four friends touching each other's dicks? Just guys being guys."

"Of course you don't." Zayn says, "This is all so fuckin' weird."

"Uh...” Liam says, frowning down at his phone. "Yeah, I think it's about to get weirder." He holds up his phone and says, "Harry's here"

Niall sits up faster than Zayn's ever seen him move before when he's stoned at least and says, "Here? Now? What?"

When Liam's phone rings, he holds his finger up and leaves the room to take the call.

"Oh no." Louis says, pausing the game.

Zayn feels stuck frozen to the couch, doesn't understand why he feels so freaked and nervous at the prospect of seeing Harry after so long.

"Hey...yeah, yeah. Shh. I'm coming, babe, don't worry." Liam comes back into the room balancing on one foot as he tries to put his left shoe on, and Louis rushes to get him his coat and helps him into it. "You have to calm down, Haz. I'm going to hang up. Just stay right where you are." Liam ends the call and looks at them all, his teeth worrying into his lip. "I'm not sure it will be wise for you guys to be here when he comes up."

"What's wrong with him?" Niall asks, frowning.

But Liam just shakes his head and walks out the door, Louis closing it behind him. He turns around to face them and suddenly looks so tired. "It happens sometimes." Louis says, "He’s been coming over and we let him crash on our couch."

"What do you mean sometimes? Why?" Zayn stands up and goes to move for the door, but Louis grabs his arm.

"I don't really think that that's the best idea." He says, "Niall, get dressed. You both have to leave.”

"What's wrong with him?" Niall asks, again. But he's up and taking the jackets that Louis hands him and Zayn is rubbing the back of his neck, confused and worried and a little bit angry.

"It's just that—when he's like this it's not smart for him to come up here and see the both of you here."

"Are you," Zayn says, stops. "Are you saying this is because of us?"

"I don't want you to feel bad." Louis says, softly, which is markedly a first. "Please, just go. Liam will probably take the elevator, so I think you should take the stairs. We'll call you. You just have to go."

When Louis finally ushers them out of the flat, Zayn presses his fingers into his temple, head begging to explode and Niall tugs on the front of his shirt, "Don't, Zayn. Let's go. We have to go."

Zayn lets Niall pull him down the stairs and outside. The cold air hits him like a punch in the stomach. And he thinks he deserves it. Maybe they both do.

\----/----

Zayn snaps at one of his interns and she actually leaves his office crying. She hasn't really done anything wrong except for come into his office at the absolute worst time. He felt bad afterwards and bought them all lunch and even let them off early. But it was mostly so he could have the entire floor to himself to blast the sad playlists of depressing music that Harry likes to make and send links to all four of them in emails.

He spends the remainder of his workday lying on the floor and throwing a ball against the wall while he listens to mopey indie musicians that he's never heard of. His stomach growls but he ignores it, not wanting to distract himself from his self-pity with anything that might actually make him feel a bit better. He kind of wanted himself to suffer. To feel some kind of pain without actually inflicting it on himself by other means.

He thinks his office is starting to become a place of escape ever since the whole Harry fiasco started. Before, he genuinely couldn't wait to go home to his stupidly attractive boyfriend and his shoddily decorated flat. He gets a text from Louis telling him _this is fucked_ , and one from Liam telling him to _get your shit together_ and Zayn feels like he's been slapped across the face when he reads that coming from Liam. He doesn't know exactly what he needs to do or how he needs to go about it. But he sends off a text to both Louis and Liam and tells them he's going to fix it anyway.

He can't really remember the last time he'd been to Harry's' flat but he remembers exactly how to get there. Harry used to live with Eaby, the first serious girlfriend he’d ever had that was notoriously known for breaking his heart, but when they broke up, she moved out and Harry lost half his furniture and never really bothered to buy anymore. He only has a couch because Liam had one in storage from his old flat before he'd moved in with Louis. He had the tiniest TV but never really used it because he was always out of the house or working and especially lately he'd spent so much time at Zayn and Niall's, he didn't much care for filling the emptiness that his girlfriend left him with.

When Zayn reaches Harry's door, he smiles at the Christmas wreath hanging over the peephole, sort of glad that it covered Harry's view when he knocks softly on the door.

He hears Harry yell, "Hold on a minute!" and waits patiently at the door, his pulse speeding, his chest feeling like it's going to cave in.

When Harry finally swings open the door, wearing a ridiculous apron and his glasses, Zayn's stomach drops, and the smile that was previously on Harry's face disappears.

"It's a little early for Christmas decorations, isn't it?" Zayn says, and it's the first and only fucking thing that comes to his mind and then out of his dumb mouth.

Harry eyes the wreath and then Zayn and Zayn can see him take a deep breath and release it, blowing air out silently. "What are you doing here, Zayn?"

"Can I come in?"

Harry shrugs and gestures for him to come in with his oven mitt covered hand.

Zayn is hit with an overwhelming sweet smell and he turns just as Harry is shutting the door. "What are you baking at six o'clock on a Monday evening?"

"Pie." Harry says. "It's for my coworkers at the library. What do you want?"

Zayn walks over to the couch and folds his legs underneath his thigh, patting the space next to him. "Come and sit with me."

Harry glances into the kitchen, contemplating before obliging and sitting further away from Zayn than he would've liked but Zayn can deal with that. "What is it?"

"We haven't seen you in a while."

"Yeah, well. You basically told me to go away."

"That's not how it happened." Zayn says, even though he doesn't really know how it happened--how Niall told him they needed space. "You didn't have to disappear completely."

"I wanted to give you your space."

"You gave us a little too much space." Zayn responds, "We were just scared."

"Why would you be scared of me?" Harry asks, "We’ve known each other so long."

"We're not scared of you, we're scared of--" Zayn pauses, reaches over and takes off the oven mitt Harry's got on, throwing it off to the side, and linking their fingers together. "God, Harry. We're afraid of losing you."

"What?"

"We like you a lot. Like, a lot. And it was going so well and we fit so perfectly that it got kind of scary."

"Oh." Harry's cheeks pink, "Why didn't you just tell me that? We could have worked through it. All of us: together."

"Have you met me?" Zayn says, "As soon as shit starts getting too real, I run the other direction."

"You can't do that, Zayn. Not to me."

"I'm so sorry, babe. We both are. It's all my fault, actually. Niall only sent you away because of me. He could tell I was starting to lose my mind over it."

Harry squeezes his hand, "Have you found it now?"

Zayn chuckles softly, and brings his free hand up to run his thumb over Harry's jaw, "Yeah, Haz. I think I have."

"You don't have to worry about losing me. All right? I'm here. I'll always be here. As long as you'll have me."

"I know now. And I'm sorry it took so long for me to figure that out."

\----/----

Niall looks up from the couch and blinks a few times before jumping up and racing into Harry's arms. He hugs him and then leans back to give him a quick peck on the lips. "Are you staying?"

Harry nods his head, smiling, holding onto Niall's waist tightly. "As long as you'll have me."

"Forever." Niall says. "I love you."

Harry freezes and Zayn runs a hand over his own face, suppressing a groan. "Niall. Jesus."

"It's fine." Harry assures them, recovering. "I. Me too, actually."

"Yeah?" Niall perks up.

Harry nods his head and hums in the affirmative. "The both of you. For a while now. Maybe too long?"

"How long is too long?" Zayn asks, curious.

"How long have we known each other?" Harry replies, then, when Zayn and Niall glance at each other, "I'm completely kidding! I realized it about a year ago."

"A year? Harry, what the fuck? We could have been doing this for a whole year?"

"How was I supposed to know you felt the same way? Imagine if I'd just propositioned you two for a threesome out of the blue? How do you think that wouldn't gone?"

"Obviously pretty well considering it worked for us!" Niall responds.

And, really, Zayn thinks, he isn’t wrong.

\----/----

When it happens, Zayn doesn’t flake.

He’s lying on the bed, scrolling through emails on his phone, rolling his eyes at the thread he'd gotten stuck in as his coworkers send memes back and forth, listening to the sound of Niall singing in the shower, and after, knocking around in the bathroom doing God knows what.

It's soothing, his voice, and the warmth seeping out of the bathroom, and it's making Zayn tired even though it's only just gone eight at night.

When Niall comes out of the bathroom, he's got a towel wrapped so low around his waist that he might as well have come out without it.

"Gonna put on a show, Magic Mike?" Zayn can't help but tease, grinning, suddenly wide awake at the possibility, "Hold on, let me put on some Marvin Gaye."

"Could do," Niall plays along, shimmying his hips, turning around and pretending to shake his nonexistent ass.

Zayn's enamored, admiration shining through his secondhand embarrassment, "Come on, then. Give us some more." He encourages, tossing his phone aside so he can fold his arms behind his head, enjoying the show. "Let me see that ass."

Niall reddens quite impressively, turning to give Zayn the finger, "You're the worst." His chest is flushed, either from the shower or Zayn's teasing.

Zayn grins back at him, feeling a bit mischievous, "'M serious! Drop the towel, Niall."

"What do I get if I do?" He asks, and when Zayn quirks an eyebrow, he says, "You get a show, what'll I get in return?"

Zayn lifts his shoulders, feeling light; and slightly turned on. "You can have anything you want."

"Anything?" Niall takes a step forward, letting a corner of the towel slip down, teasing, just enough for Zayn to feel frustrated at the movement.

"Yeah," Zayn breathes, "I'm all yours."

"Damn right," Niall says, and he's at the end of the bed, now, watching Zayn carefully. "Keep your hands behind your head."

Zayn nods his head, obedient, but it's then that there's an indignant sound from the doorway, startling Zayn and Niall, followed by the sound of Harry's amused voice going, "What's going on here, then?"

"For fuck's sake, Haz," Zayn says, "You could've knocked?"

"Stealthy little shit," Niall laughs, towel still riding low on his waist, shamelessly.

"Was I interrupting? Please--continue." Harry smiles, leaning against the wall near the doorway and folding his arms over his chest. "Love a show."

"It's not free." Niall tells him, letting his towel slip even lower. Zayn can see the lower part of his back, a tease of his ass, can only imagine Harry's view. "What'll I get in return?"

Harry's following the line of his torso, eyes trailing down, shrugging. "Anything, everything," he says, like an admission, and Niall turns to smile knowingly at Zayn.

While he's distracted, Zayn sees the moment something flickers in Harry's eyes, an idea sprouting and he doesn't have time to warn Niall before Harry is imitating a bull and charging at Niall, lifting him up over his shoulder and throwing him on the bed. He pushes away Niall's arms and starts snorting into his belly, nudging his nose against Niall's skin. Niall retaliates, extremely sensitive and ticklish on all parts of his body that his clothes usually do a good job of covering, but the towel's fallen off onto floor in the scuffle. "Bulls don't snort like pigs, you're an idiot. Get off me! Zayn!"

"Semantics." Harry says, settling down quick enough that Zayn can ignore Niall's call for help, snorting instead at the two of them. Harry bites the skin just below Niall's belly button and Niall only hisses slightly, caught off guard. "I'm being cute, Niall. Let me be cute."

Zayn props himself up on his elbows beside them as Niall lets Harry rest his chin on his stomach. "You don't even have to try, really."

Harry smiles, touched, and Zayn swears his lips constantly look like they've been bruised red and it drives him insane. "Mmm. Awfully sweet of you, Malik. I'm a little concerned about your health."

"Are you now?"

"Mmhmm. You see, old Zayn probably would've never let me do this--" Zayn arches an eyebrow and Harry leans over, spreading himself over Niall so he can press warm kisses down Zayn's bare torso, down, down to the button of his jeans. "Or this." Harry narrates, and pulls back a little to start undoing Zayn's jeans. Niall shifts to sit up, maneuvering Harry in his lap so he's not straining his back, eyebrows raising as he watches, and Zayn props himself more comfortably on his elbows, looking on curious.

Niall's the one who presses. "What else?"

Harry's fingers brush over the line of Zayn's already half hard cock and Harry glances up at him through his eyelashes. He's gorgeous. He's terrible. He's everything, if not more. "Well he definitely wouldn't have let me do this."

And when he leans down to mouth at Zayn's briefs, Zayn hisses, softly, his cock twitching, and reaches out for Niall's hand automatically, a learned response to a mouth on his dick. Niall's ahead of him, hand already there, the other still holding Harry at the waist as he bends over.

It's a bit strange, at first, because it's usually Niall's mouth he feels, but Niall's lying beside him, alternating between watching Harry work his mouth over Zayn and watching Zayn's reaction. Zayn thinks maybe with the fact that it's Harry, there should be alarm bells sounding off in his mind, but it's eerily silent, except for the string of curses and praises swimming around among the mental efforts to keep himself from nutting prematurely.

"Old Zayn would hate this." Harry's saying, and it's nonsense by now, especially when the wetness of his mouth is gone suddenly and Zayn's making a desperate, pleading noise that he meant to control, but it'd felt like it's been tugged out of him. By the look in Harry's eyes, or the weighted presence of Niall beside him. He's about to complain, or start begging, but Harry grabs a hold of Zayn's briefs and tugs them down, low enough so Zayn's cock is free, half hard and throbbing for it.

He should be embarrassed at how easy it is to get him going, revealing himself to Harry in this vulnerable state, but he finds he doesn't actually care.

When Zayn lifts his hips to help get his briefs out of the way, Niall is there again, his guiding force, stopping Zayn from kicking them down messily and moving around Harry to help him slide them smoothly down his legs, over his feet, and off, while Zayn tugs impatiently on Harry's shirt, prompting him to sit up enough so he can pull it over his head. Zayn doesn't know why being undressed and watching someone get undressed is so hot, but it turns him on in ways he will probably never understand.

"Lie back." Harry orders, palm unintentionally slapping flat on Zayn's chest to push him down. He doesn't apologize. "Relax."

Zayn does as he's told, not letting being bossed around be added to his ever growing list of kinks he's had since he started dating and fucking Niall on the regular. He used to not know what rimming was. Naivety must have been cruel and lonely.

"You too," Harry says, straightening back up in Niall's lap, shifting against his bare crotch. "Hands to yourself."

"Thought this was about Zayn." Niall responds and Harry fixes him with a look.

"It's been about the both of you. From the beginning. Always." And just as quickly as he'd gotten serious, he's back to ridiculous, making a cute little growling noise that should've turned Zayn off and shut down the entire operation but then Zayn remembers it's Harry and he'd be a lot more worried if there weren't any weird bumps in the road.

Harry wraps his hand around the base of Zayn's cock and places the most intimate kiss at the tip.

Zayn laughs, a bit deliriously. "The fuck?"

"Just acquainting myself with him." Harry says, sliding his hand down Zayn’s cock and slowly back up.

"Oh my god." Niall says, giving Harry a slap on his backside, "you're being cruel."

Harry grins, and before Zayn can agree, he sucks Zayn into his mouth without further hesitation. Zayn squeaks, pathetically, and bites his lip, trying to keep his muscles and his entire body relaxed. Harry doesn't waste time, develops a rhythm and sucks hard, like he's trying to drain him. But that's not appealing, and Zayn has to clear that thought out of his mind fast.

It helps when he feels Niall's lips on his shoulder, slightly chapped, and Niall leaning his forehead against the spot he'd kissed to watch the way Harry's mouth stretched around Zayn's dick.

Zayn feels like his brain is puddling and running down his spine, using his veins to travel through his body until it reaches and pools into his toes. He groans and sinks his free hand in Harry's hair. " _God_."

But then Harry is stopping, sliding off with an unsettlingly loud pop, Zayn's cock sliding obscenely out from between his shiny, reddened lips. "Don't come," he orders.

And Zayn, pervious to direction, wills himself to catch his breath, focus on the feeling of Niall beside him, the squeeze of his hand, the warmth of his bare leg against Zayn’s.

"Please tell me you've got a condom." Harry says, sitting upright in Niall's lap again, and he's different like this, Zayn thinks. He's all flushed cheeks and messy hair, bossy and overly confident, eyes filled with a hypnotizing allure that seems to be emanating from his entire body.

  
Zayn can feel it, feel it latch onto him, burrow into his skin and spreading throughout until it feels like he’s been set aflame. It’s—well. It’s something he realizes has been there since seeing Niall and Harry kiss for the first time, momentarily sending him into a state of shock, and since Harry kissed him, melting into Harry like his lips were already home.

Niall's laughing, slashing his way into Zayn’s thoughts and yanking him out of his mind. "Should be some around. Lift up," he says unfortunately releasing Zayn's hand to move Harry off of him so he can go to their dresser.

Zayn feels like he’s losing an anchor, a part of himself that’s keeping him grounded to the bed, his mind locked onto this very moment, the here and now, the _being in bed with Harry._

But the moment Harry lands beside Zayn, he's on him without a thought, turning his head and kissing him deep and slow, slower than Zayn expected, and Zayn falls with him like that very first time, Harry embedding himself into Zayn, slipping into his place, both vitalizing and leveling. He swallows as Harry's mouth moves down and over his throat, knowing Harry can feel it, can feel his pulse threatening to beat out of his skin.

"You smell amazing," Harry laments, and Niall is climbing back into the bed, smiling at the two of them, like they’ve made all of his dreams and fantasies a reality, "Does he smell like this normally?"

"All the time," Niall confirms, taking his position beside them, throwing a condom at Harry's head, "You're making him blush."

"I'm not," Harry says, and Zayn is too busy counting to ten in his head to dispute it, praying he doesn't just come all over himself from the combined overwhelmingly hedonic feeling of frustration and attention.

"What do you want, then?" Niall asks.

"I want you both to fuck me." Harry speaks it into Zayn's skin, and Zayn thinks he sees sparks, "I want you both. At the same time."

Niall doesn't falter, and Zayn doesn't know how he does it, keeps so calm and collected. It's almost infuriating, especially when Zayn can't hold it together himself. "Okay," Niall says, agreeing easily. Of course he would, this is what he’s wanted all along.

At the confirmation, Harry's moving, sitting up and pulling Niall into a lingering kiss. "Want you."

"Yeah, yeah. All right." Niall nods his head, and takes the condom from Harry's hands, and Zayn snaps himself out of it enough to retrieve the bottle of lube that's been tucked underneath their mattress for easy access, aiming to hand the bottle to Harry, but Harry gives him smile and pushes his hand away.

"No, do it. Come on." Harry urges, rolling over onto his stomach, and getting on all fours. He does it effortlessly, gives himself to Zayn, trusting, "I want you to, Zayn."

"Go on, babe," Niall urges, and when Zayn looks he's sliding the condom on, giving himself a few pumps, and it send chills down Zayn's spine, his own cock twitching at the sight.

He’s thought about this, but he hadn’t—he never really thought it would be like this. He never could’ve imagined this.

Someone says his name and Zayn finally moves, getting on his knees behind Harry. He's a lot more confident as he manages to slick up his fingers and slide them into Harry, Harry moaning and rocking back, urging him to press into him deeper. Zayn stretches him until Harry's properly fucking back onto his fingers, captivated by the arc of his back, the sweat already threatening to highlight his skin, until Harry's panting out, "S'good. I'm good."

He turns his head to catch Zayn's eye over his shoulder, his warm gaze holding Zayn in place, "I want you here," he says, a finger coming up to lazily drag over his bottom lip.

So Zayn goes, and Niall goes, too, switching spots with Zayn and situating himself comfortably behind Harry, pulling him close and trailing kisses down his back, over his spine, until he's at the curve of Harry's ass, and Zayn watches intently, almost mesmerized as Harry groans impatiently and Niall giggles as a response, the two of them together more striking than anything he’s ever seen.

"Please just fuck me," Harry begs, and Zayn can see that he’s rubbing himself over Niall’s cock, Niall holding his hips and fucking with him, purposefully rubbing his cock between his cheeks. "Both of you. Please, I'd really like that, now."

If Zayn couldn't suddenly feel his heartbeat in his ears, he might have teased him for the unnecessary politeness. "Thought it was about us?" Zayn turns both Harry and Niall's words around, using his hand to push Harry's hair back from his face.

"Or is that not what you said?" Niall adds, the two of them always fitting together anyway they can, a team.

"Don't care what I said." Harry slaps Zayn's hand away, only able to use one hand to pull Zayn slightly forward, simultaneously rocking his hips back, "Please,” he breathes.

Niall's never been one to deny someone what they want, so he gives it to him, adjusting himself behind Harry so he can finally properly slide in, Harry taking it with an almost satisfied groan,

The look on Harry's face, the way his head falls as Niall fucks him slowly, pushing Harry forward, his mouth dangerously close to Zayn’s dick each time he rocks forward, floors Zayn a bit. He'd be content with watching, has been ever since this started, and it wouldn't be any different now, but Niall's leaning over, bracing himself against Harry's back and pulling Zayn in by the back of his neck to kiss him.

When he leans back, he presses their foreheads together, breathing against Zayn's lips, a lazy smile on his face, "Come on, come on."

And it's that, Niall's final encouragement that convinces Zayn to let Harry have what he wants, and it's like Harry knows because he's already waiting, mouth open eagerly as Zayn guides himself between his lips.

\--

"I want to do this with you every single day for the rest of my life," Harry admits, after, when they're lying side by side by side in the bed.

Zayn grunts, sleepily, from Harry's left, and Niall chuckles a bit. "Shut up, you're an idiot."

"We can run off together." Harry continues, "Leave Liam and Louis behind weeping in our absence. Build a life together on a beautiful distant island. Adopt or have a nice uterus owning person carry our twins. Or both."

Zayn rolls his eyes, burrowing further into Harry's shoulder.

But Niall starts to play along, "We'll have a big house and a litter of puppies."

Harry nods his head, taking this very seriously. "We'll host dinners in our backyard that Zayn designed because he won't let us hire anyone. And teach our kids to ride a bike and watch them light sticks on fire just because they can." He says, "You'll teach them to play golf—we both will. But you're better at that. And they'll know it."

"We'll watch them get married and you'll cry." Niall adds, teasing, "And when they have children, Zayn'll yell at them to stop running around the house."

"And we'll spend our last days swinging on the backyard porch and we'll think of them and each other and not regret a single thing." Harry muses.

Niall lies his head on Harry's shoulder, reaching to grab Zayn's hand so he can thread their fingers together atop Harry's stomach.

Zayn speaks, then, "Sounds really nice actually," He says, "But I'd like a cat."

"We'll have a zoo. I promise." Harry assures him. "I've always wanted a cat."

Zayn bites the bullet, taking their imaginings directly to the level it was headed, "Will you marry us in another life, Harry Styles?"

"Zayn Malik, I'd be honored to be your alternate universe husband." Harry says and kisses Zayn on the eyelid. "We'd be a good family together. Probably."

"We'd be brilliant." Niall swears.

Zayn believes him.


End file.
